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'IFE OF jrOHNSON: ^ 



3<*,i(> 



RAL, CRITICAL, AND MISCELLANEOUS, 

ACCURATELY SELECTED FROM THE WORKS OF 

DR. SAMUEL. JOHNSON, 

And arrange^ in A]jphabetical Order. 



FROM THE FIFTH LONDON EDITION. 

Enlarged and Corrected. 



->*®^®<«^- 



BOSTON: 

lRSH, CAPEN & LYON, AND B. H. GREENE. 










Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1833, by 

Mabsh, Capen and Lion, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of 

Massachusetts, 



X//"^. 



TABLE OF THE SUBJECTS. 



Page 

Affectation - 63 

Affection - ' - 64 

Agriculture - ib. 
Agriculture of England 65 

Age - - 66 

The Vanity of wishing 

for Old Age - 68 
Age and Youth - 7U 
Advice - - 71 
Adversary - - 73 
Avarice - i , 
Admiration - - 74 
Ambition - ih. 
Atheist - - 75 
Anger - 76 
Ability - - 77 
Accident - ib. 
Anticipation - ib. 
Applause - - ib. 
Appearances {often de- 
ceitful) - - 78 
Army - - ib. 
Art - - - 79 
Author - ib. 
Aphorisms - - 87 
Beauty - - 88 
Biography - - 91 
Business - - 92 
Bounties (natural) 93 
Confidence - - 93 
Commerce - - 94 
Complaisance - 95 
Complacency, Self 97 
Charity - - ib. 



Page 
Charity to Captives 98 
Censure - - 99 

Custom - - ib. 

Cheats - - 100 

Character - - 101 

Chance - - 102 

Calamity - - 103 
Complaint - - ib. 
Care - - - ib. 

Choice - - - ib. 
Cleanliness - ib. 

Change - - 104 

Conscience - ib. 

Captivity - - ib. 

Competency - ^ 105 

Contempt - - 106 
Consolation - ib. 

Civility - - - ib. 

Content - - ib. 

Curiosity - - ib. 
Criticism - ib^^-^^ 

Convict - - 110 

Compilation - ib. 

Children - - Ill- 
Credulity - - ib. 

Court - - - ib. 

CunningX - - 112^ 

Courage - - 113^ 

Companion - i'<. 

Crimes - - 114 

Confidence - ib. 

Copies compared with 

Originals - - 115 

Compliment - 1 16 



A TABf.E 


:, &c. 


lY 


Desire - - - 


116 


Frugality 


147 


Death 


117 


Favour 


149 


Dependence - 


119 


Fancy 


ib. 


Diffidence - 


120 


Genius 


149 


Delicacy 


ib. 


Government 


151 


Disappointment - 


ih. 


Government, Self 


153 


Disease 


ib. 


Guilt - 


ib. 


Delay 


121 


Good, Universal - 


154 


Distrust 


122 


Happiness 


154 


Deception - 


123 


Happiness, Domestic 157 


Deception, Self 


- ib. 


Habits 


15b 


Devotion 


ib. 


Hope 


ib. 


Duty - 


126 


Health 


i^ . 


Diligence - 


ib. 


Humanity - 


160 


Envy - - - 


127 


History 


ib. 


Example - 


128 


Humour, Good - 


161 


Emulation 


129 


Humour, Good [compar- 


Education - 


ib. 


ed with Gaiety) - 


162 


Employment 


131 


Jealousy 


162 


Evil - - 


132 


Jesting 


163 


Empire 


133 


Joy 


ib. 


Excellence 


ib. 


Judgment 


164 


Enquiry 


ih. 


Justice 


165 


Equanimity 


ib. 


Industry 


167 


Epitaph 


134 


Indiscretion 


ib. 


Error 


136 


Imitati/)n 


ib. 


Esteem 


ib. 


Indolence - 


169 


flection ^ - 
Expectation 


ib. 


Idleness 


170 


ib. 


■ Integrity - 


171 


Effects {not always p: 


ro- 


Ignorance 


iK 


portioned to their cau- 


Ignorance [compared 


r 


ses) 


137 


ivith Knowledge) - 


'l72 


Fame 


137 


Ignorance [compared 




Father 


138 


Confidence) 


ib. 


^Friendship 


139 


Imprudence - 


ib. 


Flattery 


142 


Imprisonment - 


ib. 


Folly 


144 


Imposition 


174 


Fortune 


145 


Imagination 


ib. 


Foreigner 


ih. 


Intelligence - 


175 


Fear - 


146 


Intelligence, Foreign 


Forgiveness 


ib. 


and Domestic 


ih. 



Irresolution 

Importance, Self - 
Insult 

Incredulity - 
Indulgence 
Improvements. 
Inclination 
Knowledge 

Kings - - - 181 

Life - - 182 

Learning - - 185 

Love - - 187 

Love, Self - - ib. 

Language - 189 
Language, Eoglish 191 

Laws - - ib. 

Liberty - - 192 

Loyalty - - ib. 

Marriage - 193 

Marriages, Early - 195 

Marriages, Late - ib. 
Marriages, Comparison 

between early and 

late - - 196 

Malice - - - 197 

Man - - ib. 

Manners - - 198 

Madness - - 199 

Meanness - - ib. 

Merchant - - ib. 

Memory - - 200 

Mind - - 202 

Minuteness - - ib. 

Misery - - ib. 

Mirth - - - 203 

Money - - ib. 

Nature - - - 204 

Nabobs, English, &c. ib. 

Negligence - 205 

Novelty - - ib. 

Opinion - - 205 



A TABLE, &C. 


V 


175 Opportanity 


- 206 


ib. Oaths - 


ib. 


176 Patriot - 


- 206 


ib. Parents 


207 


' 177 Passion 


- ib. 


iral ib. Pain - 


ib. 


- 178 Patronage - 


- 208 


178 Pleasure 


ib. 



Pleasures of Local 

Emotion - - 209 
Poets and Poetry - ib. 
Poverty - - 233 
Poverty and Idleness 215 
^Politicks - - ib. 

Praise - - 217 
Pride - - 219 

Pride and Envy * ib. 
Poet, Comparison be- 
tween a/ Dramatic, 
and a Statesman - ib. 
Prayer - - 220 
Prosperity - - 221 
Peevishness - 222 
People - - 223 

Pedantry - - 224 
Punctuality - - ib. 
Prudence - ib. 

Prudence and Justice 225^ 



Prejudice 


- ib. 


Practice - 


ib. 


Peace - 


- 226 


Piety - 


ib. 


Perfection 


- ib. 


Perfidy 


227 


Perseverance 


- ib. 


Prodigality 


228 


Patience 


- ib. 


Pity - 


229 



Philosophy - - 230 
Physician - ib. 

Periodicals - 231 



VI 



A TABLE, SiC. 



Raillery - - 231 
Resolution - ib. 
Religion - - 233 
Riches - - 234 
Riches, comparison 
between, and Un- 
derstanding - 240 
Riches, comparison 

between, and Power ib. 

Ridicule - - 241 

Reflection - - 242 

Rebellion - 243 

Refinement - 244 

Recollection - 246- 

Retirement - - ib. 

Retaliation - 246 

Relaxation - - ^ib. 

Repentance - 247 

Revenge - - 250 

Respect - - ib. 

Reputation, Literary ib. 

Reason and Fancy 251 

Satire - - 251 

Satirist - - 252 

Secrets - - 253 

Skepticism - 254 

Seduction - - 255 

^olitude - - ib. 

Sorrow - - 256 

Style - - 258 

Singularity - 259 

Subordination - ib. 

Solicitation - 260 

Suspicion - ib. 

Superiority - 261 

Scripture - - ih. 

Simile - - - ib. 

Shame - - 262 

Study - - 263 

Sobriety - ib. 



Scarcity - - 263 
Sentences - ib. 

Success and Miscarri- 
age - - - 264 
Shakspeare - ib. 

Superfluities - - ib. 
Sense, Good - - ih. 
Sports, Rural - 265 
Time - - - 265 
Time Past - - 266 
Trifles - - 267 
Travelling - - 268 
Trade - - 269 
Truth - - ib. 

Temptation - 270 

Vanity - - 2*0 
Virtue - - - 271 
Virtue, Romantic - 273 
Virtue, Intentional - ib. 
Virtue, Excess of - 274 
Vice - - - ib. 
Verse, Blank - ib. 
Virtue - - - 275 
Universality - 275 
Understanding - ib. 
Understandings, Great ib. 
War - - 276 

Wit - - - 278 
Wisdom - - 279 

World - - - ib. 
Women - - 280 
Wealth - - 281 

Wickedness - - ib. 
Weakness, Female 282 
Wine - - - ib. 
Wrongs - - ib. 
Writing, Letter - 283 
Wickedness, Splendid ib. 
Youth - - - 283 
Youth and Age - 285 



PREFACE 



FIRST LONDON EDITION. 



The works of Dr. Johnson have been occa- 
sionally so much the object of my reading, for the 
fancy, judgment, and above all, the interesting 
and moral observations which they contain upon 
life and manners, that in order to impress those 
observations the better on my mind, I availed 
mvself of some leisure months last summer, 
to select them under proper heads, and arrange 
them in alphabetical order. As I proceeded in 
this work, I found myself bringing out, into one 
view, a body of maxims and observations, which 
I imagined would be more than useful to my- 
self; hence I thought it a duty incumbent on 
me to publish them. I reflected that if the 
maxims of the Duke de la Rochefaucault have 
been considered by the whole class of French 
writers, as instrumental in forming the taste of 



lection from them may not be altogether so 
necessary. But such are to be informed 5 that 
very few are in the possession of the ivhole of 
his works ; m.any of them being published in 
the early parts of his fame, and at such distant 
periods of time, as render them now very diffi- 
cult to be found ; and it was owing to the in- 
dulgence of a literary friend, who is too critical 
a collector to omit adding to his library any 
production of this writer, that I was favoured 
with a perusal of all his pieces ; so that the gen- 
erality of the public are here presented w^ith 
some novelty in the matter as Vv^el! as in the 
manner. In respect to the use of selection^ 
(particularly as I have here applied it) Dr John- 
son makes the best apology for me to the pub- 
lic in his Idler, vol. ii. p. 185, and which, I 
hope, he wall accept himself, as an additional 
j:notive for this undertaking. 

^'Writers of extensive comprehension, (says 
he) have incidental remarks upon topics very 
remote from the principal subject, which are 
often more valuable than formal treatises, and 
which yet are not knowm, because they are not 
promised in the title. He that collects those 
under proper heads^ is very laudably employed^ 
for though he exerts no great abilities in the 



IX PREFACE. 

the age the author lived in ; maxims, which, 
however modified, contain but this single posi- 
tion, " That self-love is the spring of all our 
actions,^^ what must the maxims and observa- 
tions of a Johnson produce ? An author, who, 
though unsupported by the patronage of the 
great, and who has been obliged to spend much 
of his life in making provision for the day that 
was passing over him,"^ yet has ever scorned to 
accommodate himself to the licentiousness and 
levity of the present age, but uniting the great- 
est learning with the greatest talents, has uni- 
formly supported the cause of morality, ^' by 
giving an ardour to virtue, and a confidence to 
truth." 

Such is the origin of the present publication, 
a publication, that, as I feel it has benefited iny- 
self in the compiling, so I trust it will others in 
the perusal, and happy shall I be, if, by any ' 
economy of m.ine in the works of such a writer, 
I can contribute to make them more generally 
known, or remembered, as by it I am sure I 
shall perform an essential service to mankind. 

It may be objected, that as most people are 
in the possession of Dr. Johnson's w^orks, a se- 

■^ See Dr^ Johnson's Preface to his Dictionary. 



work, he facilitates the progress of others, and 
by making that easy of attainment, which is 
ah'eady written, may give some mind, more 
vigorous or adventurous than his own, leisure 
for new thoughts, and original designs." 

How far this selection is made with judgment, 
1 must, however, trust to the decision of the 
pubhc, well knowing that if it is negligently, or 
ignoraotly performed, any thing I can say, will 
not excuse me ; if on the contrary, 1 have done 
justice to my design^ my telling them so will 
not accelerate their approbation. One thing I 
can assure them of, that I have made my ex- 
tracts as accurataly and judiciously as I could 
— and that whatever may be the fate of the book, 
I have been already repaid for my labours by 
the satisfaction they have afforded me. 

THE EDITOR, 
■ November Mth, 178L 



ADVERTISEMENT 



FIFTH LONDON EDITION. 



The editor, feeling himself under many obli- 
gations to the public for their very great en- 
couragement of this work, has in return for such 
favours endeavoured to make this edition as 
complete as possible, by adding a Selection from 
Dr. Johnsonh JVotes upon Shaksjpeare, as well 
as from his poetical W^orks ; together with 
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of the Au- 
thor. — These ere the last improvements the 
editor can possibly make on the " The BEAU- 
TIES of JOHNSON." 

April IQth, 1782. 



PREFACE 



AMERICAN EDITION. 



The works of Dr. Johnson have al- 
ready been presented to the public in 
various forms, bj different compilers : 
We do not profess, therefore, to present 
any new views of his character, — but it 
is hoped that the most prominent inci- 
dents of his life are here accurately 
recorded, and so simplified as to be 
adapted to the capacity of the youthful 
mind. The fame of Johnson is beyond 
the reach of calumny, and our admira- 
tion will only be enhanced by the ar- 
rangement of some of his matured ideas 
upon almost every subject, which is 
presented in this little work. It is not 



XlV PREFACE. 

a book which when once read may be 
thrown aside as valueless ; but rather a 
treasury of useful thoughts, to which 
we may always turn and derive some 
benefit. Not havdng been before pre- 
sented to the American public in this 
form, it is hoped it will prove accepta- 
ble. 

Editor. 



MEMOlJl 



DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 



The character and writings of Dr. Johnson 
liave been already published to the world by 
more than one skilful delineator. The merit of 
the latter is too well established to need farther 
encomiums ; it was thought expedient there- 
fore, to republish these choice morsels^ which 
were gleaned "by another hand, with the addi- 
tion of his life prefixed, in a small volume ; 
it will, we trust, be read with pleasure by ail 
lovers of pure taste, and correct sentiments. 

Samuel Johnson was born at Lichfield, Sept. 
7th, 1709, O.S. His father, Michael Johnson, 
was a bookseller in that city ; a man of large 
body, and violent passions ; wrongheaded, posi- 
tive, and at times afflicted with a degree of 
melancholy little short of madness. ,His mother 
was sister to Dr. Ford, a practising physician, 
and father of Cornelius Ford, generally known 
h/ the name of Parson Ford^ the same who is 



16 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

represented near the punchbowl, in Hogarth^s 
Midnight Modern Conversation. Thus much 
for his parentage. He had several brothers^ 
none of which, however, were distinguished for 
any remarkable powders. Nothing of a very in- 
teresting nature can be said of his family. — In- 
deed it has been remarked, that he took no 
pleasure in talking of his relations. " There is 
little pleasure," he said to BIrs. Piozzi, ^' in 
relating the anecdotes of beggary." 

Johnson was severely tried with the distem- 
per called the king's evil. The Jacobites at that 
time believed in the efficacy of the royal touch ; 
and accordingly Mrs. Johnson presented her 
son, when two years old, before Queen Anne, 
who for the first time, performed that office, and 
communicated to her young patient all the heal- 
ing virtue in her power. He was afterwards cut 
for that scrofulous humor, and the under part 
of his face was seamed and disfigured by the op- 
eration. It is supposed that this disease de- 
prived him of the sight of his left eye, and 
also impaired his hearing. 

It may seem a ridiculous attempt to trace the 
dawn of his poetical faculty so far back as to 
his very infancy : but the following incident I 
am compelled to mention, as it is well attested^ 
and therefore makes part of his history. When 
he was about three years old^ his mother had a 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 17 

brood of ducklings, which she permitted him to 
call his own. It happened that in playing about, 
he trod on and killed one of them, upon which, 
running to his mother, he in great emotion bid 
her write. Write, child? said she, what must 
I write? Why write, answered he^ so; 

Here lies good Master Duck, 

That Samuel Johnson trod on, 

If 't had lived, 'twould have been good luck. 

For then there'd been an odd one. 

and she wrote accordingly. 

At eight years old, he was placed at the free 
school in Lichfield, where he was not remarka- 
ble for diligence or regular application. His 
memory however was very retentive. Whatever 
he read was remembered . In the fields with his 
schoolfellows, he talked more to himself, than 
with them. In 1725, when he was about sixteen 
years old, he went on a visit to his cousin Cor- 
nelius Ford, who detained him for some months, 
and in the mean time assisted him in the clas- 
sics. The general directions which he then 
received, he made known to Mrs. Piozzi. *^ Ob- 
tain," says Ford, '* some general principles of 
every science ; he who can talk only on one 
subject, or act only in one department, is seldom 
wanted, and perhaps never wished for ; while 
the man of general knowledge can often benefit, 
and always please." This advice Johnson seems 
0%^ 



18 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

to have pursued with a good inclination. His 
reading was always desultory, seldom resting 
on any particular author, but rambling from one 
book to another, and by hasty snatches hoard- 
ing up a variety of knowledge. 

Another rule laid down by Ford, for Johnson^s 
future conduct, was, '* You will make your way 
more easily in the world, as you are contented 
to dispute no man's claim to conversational ex- 
cellence; they will, therefore, more willingly 
allow your pretensions as a writer." *' But," 
Mrs. Piozzi remarks, ''the features of peculiar- 
ity, which mark a character to all succeeding 
generations, are slow in coming to their growth " 

On Johnson's return from Cornelius Ford, 
Mr. Hunter, then master of the free school at 
Lichfield, refused to receive him again on that 
foundation. What his reasons were for this re- 
fusal, it is vain to enquire; but it was hard in- 
deed, that so gifted and promising a lad should 
have been denied. It did not however stop the 
progress of his mind. He was placed at another 
school, and having gone through the rudiments of 
classic literature, he returned to his father's 
house, and was probably intended for the trade 
of a bookseller. He has said that he could bind 
a book. At the end of two years, being then 
about nineteen, he went to assist the studies of 
a young gentleman of the name of Corbett; to 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 19 

the university of Oxford; and on the 31st of Oct. 
1728, both were entered at Pembroke College; 
Corbett as a gentleman commoner, and John- 
son as a commoner. The college tutor, Mr. 
Jordan, was a man of no genius; and Johnson 
it seems showed an early contempt of mean 
abilities, in one or two instances behaving with 
insolence to that gentleman. Of his general 
conduct at the University, there are no particu- 
lars that merit attention, except the translation 
of Pope's Messiah, which was a college exercise 
imposed upon him as a task by Mr. Jordan. 
Corbett left the University in about two years, 
and Johnson's salary ceased. He was by con- 
sequence straitened in his circumstances, but 
he still remained at college. Johnson grew 
more regular in his attendance after this ; Eth- 
ics, theology, and classic literature, were his 
favorite studies. He discovered, notwithstand- 
ing, early symptoms of that wandering disposi- 
tion of mind which adhered to him to the end of 
his life. His reading was by fits and starts, 
undirected to any particular science. He re- 
ceived at this time an early impression of piety, 
and a taste for the best authors, ancient and 
modern. It may however be questioned whether, 
except his Bible, he ever read a book entirely 
through. Late in life, if one praised a book in 
his presence^ it is said he would always inquire 



20 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON* 

^^ Did you read it through?" And if an affirm- 
ative answer was given, he seemed to question 
it. 

He continued at the University till the want 
of funds obliged him to quit the place. A friend, 
however, voluntarily gave him aid, so that he 
was able to complete a residence of three years. 

From the University Johnson returned to 
Lichfield. His father died soon after, in De- 
cember, 1731 ; and the whole receipt of his 
effects, as appeared by a memorandum of his 
son's handwriting, was no more than twenty 
pounds. In this exigence, determined that 
poverty should never depress his spirit, nor 
warp his integrity, he became under-master of a 
Grammar-school, at Market-Bosworth, in Lei- 
cestershire. That resource, however, did not 
last long. Disgusted by the pride of Sir Wol- 
ston Dixie, the patron of that little seminary, he 
left the place, and ever after spoke of it with 
abhorrence. 

In 1733, he went on a visit to Mr. Hector, 
who had been his schoolfellow, and was then a 
surgeon at Birmingham, lodging at the house 
of a bookseller. At that place, Johnson trans- 
lated a Voyage to Abyssinia, written by a Port- 
uguese Missionary. This was his first literary 
labor. It was undertaken at the desire of the 
bookseller, and was printed at Birmingham — ^ 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 21 

and afterwards at Paternoster Row. It contains 
a narrative of a party of Missionaries, attennpt- 
ing to convert the people of Abyssinia to the 
church of Rome. In this work he has related 
every thing in his own words, — and having 
finished it, he returned in February, 1734, to 
his native city, and in the month of August fol- 
lowing, published proposals for printing by sub- 
scription the Latin Poems of Politian, with the 
History of Latin Poetry, from the era of Pe- 
trarch to the time of Politian ; and also the 
Life of Politian, to be added by the editor, 
Samuel Johnson. The book was to be printed 
in thirty octavo sheets, price five shillings. It 
is to be regretted that this project failed for want 
of encouragement. The history which Johnson 
proposed to himself would doubtless have been 
a valuable addition to the history of letters, — but 
his scheme was doomed to fail. 

His next expedient was to offer himself as 
an assistant to Cave, the original projector of 
the Gentleman's Magazine. For this purpose 
he sent his proposals in a letter, offering, on 
reasonable terms, to fill some pages with poems 
and inscriptions, not before published, with 
fugitive pieces that deserve to be revived, and 
critical remarks on authors ancient and modern. 
Cave agreed to retain him as a contributor. 
What the conditions were^ cannot now be known ; 



22 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

but they were not so lucrative, as to prevent 
Johnson from seeking other business. He next 
made overtures to the Rev. Mr. Budworth, 
master of a Grammar school, to become his as- 
sistant. But owing to disease his nerves had 
an involuntary motion, and the teacher thought 
they would expose Johnson to the ridicule of his 
scholars. 

Another mode of obtaining a little capital now 
presented itself in a Mrs. Porter, the widow 
of a mercer, in Birmingham, who admired his 
talents. It is said she had about eight hun- 
dred pounds ; and that sum, to a person in 
Johnson's circumstances, was an affluent for- 
tune. A marriage took place between them, 
and he wishing to turn his newly acquired for- 
tune to the best advantage, opened an academy 
for education. He was aided by some friends 
in this scheme; and the celebrated Garrick 
was placed in the new seminary. Garrick was 
then about eighteen years old. An accession 
of seven or eight pupils, was the most that 
could be obtained, though a public advertise- 
ment announced that '' at Edial, near Lich- 
field, in Staffordshire, young gentlemen are 
boarded, and taught the Latin and Greek Lan- 
guages, by Samuel Johnson." 

This scheme too, proved fruitless. Johnson, 
as well he mighty became disheartened, and 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 23 

abandoned all hopes of ever doing any thing 
in his own country, and with his young pupil 
Garrick, who had formed the same resolution, 
he resolved to become an adventurer in the 
world at large. Two such candidates for fame, 
perhaps never set out together. Their stock of 
money was soon exhausted. In his attempt at 
instructing, Johnson had wasted more than 
half his wife's substance; and Garrick's father 
had not enough to give his son for his expenses. 
Yet they sat forth, with nothing but their ge- 
nius and extraordinary powers of mind, deter- 
mined to make themselves. Their friend, Mr. 
Walmsley, by a letter to the Rev. Mr. Colson, 
who, it seems was a great mathematician, ex- 
erted his good offices in their favour. He gave 
notice of their intended journey. ^^ Davy Gar- 
rick," said he, ^^ will be with you next week; 
and Johnson, to try his fate with a tragedy, 
and to get himself employed in some translation 
either from the Latin or French. Johnson is 
a very good scholar and poet, and I have great 
hopes will turn out a fine tragedy writer. If it 
should be in your way, I doubt not but you will 
recommend and assist your countrymen." But 
a mathematician could not find a sphere of ac- 
tion for two men who were to be the architects 
of their own fortunes. In three or four years, 
however, Garrick came forth with talents which 



24 MEMOm OF DR. JOHNSON. 

astonished the public. But Johnson was con- 
demned to toil in the humble walks of literature, 
A tragedy was all his capital. This, most prob- 
ably, was IrenCj which was rejected when of- 
fered. 

Poor Johnson was again obliged to look for 
employment. Having corresponded with Cave, 
under a feigned name, he now thought it time 
to divulge himself to a man whom he considered 
as the patron of literature. Cave had an- 
nounced, by public advertisement, a prize of 
fifty pounds, for the best poem on Life, Death, 
Judgment, Heaven, and Hell; and this circum- 
stance diffused the idea of his liberality. John- 
son became connected with him in business, 
and in a close and intimate acquaintance. 

To be engaged in the translation of some 
important book was still the object which John- 
son had in view. For this purpose he proposed 
to give a history of the Council of Trent, with 
copious notes, then lately added to a French 
edition. Twelve sheets of this work were 
printed, for which Johnson received forty-nine 
pounds ; but the translation was never com- 
pleted. He became acquainted about this time 
with the well known Richard Savage, whose 
life he afterwards wrote, with great elegance, 
and moral reflection. Johnson and Savage 
were in the closest intimacy.— He used to say, 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 25 

that Savage and himself often walked till four 
in the morning, — in the course of their conver- 
sation, reforming the world, dethroning princes, 
giving laws, &/C.,till fatigued with their legisla- 
tive office, they began to want refreshment, but 
could not muster more than four pence half 
penny. Savage had many vices, but Johnson's 
mind was too deeply seasoned with early piety 
to become the prey to it. 

His first prayer was composed in 1738. He 
had not at that time renounced the use of wine; 
and no doubt occasionally enjoyed his friend 
and bottle. The love of late hours was con- 
tracted through his intimacy with Savage. 
But their connexion was short. Savage was 
reduced to the last distress. He retired to 
Wales, with an allowance of fifty pounds a year; 
and it was with the idea of this retreat that 
Johnson wrote his celebrated poem, called Lon- 
don. 

Johnson at that time lodged at Greenwich. 
He there fixes the scene, and takes leave of his 
friend; who, he says in his life, parted from him 
with tears in his eyes. The late Mr. Dodsley 
w^as the purchaser of the poem at the price of 
ten guineas. It was published in .1738; and 
Pope, we are told, said, '^ the author, whoever 
he is, will not be long concealed." The pre- 
diction was not fulfilled, and we find but little 
3 



26 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

benefit which accrued to Johnson, notwithstand- 
ing it was written with great elegance. 

Johnson, in August, 1738, went, with all the 
fame of his poetry, to offer himself as a candi- 
date for the mastership of the school in Apple- 
by, in Leicestershire. The statutes of the 
place required that the person chosen should 
be a master of arts. To remove this objection, 
the late Lord Gower was induced to write to a 
friend, in order to obtain for Johnson a mas- 
ter's degree in the University of Dublin, by the 
recommendation of Dr. Swift. The letter was 
printed in one of the Magazines, and was as 
follows; 

" Sir, — Mr. Samuel Johnson, author of Lon- 
don, a Satire, and some other poetical pieces, is 
a native of this country, and much respected by 
some worthy gentlemen in the neighbourhood, 
who are trustees of a charity school, now va- 
cant; the certain salary of which is sixty pounds 
per year, of which they are desirous to make 
him master; but unfortunately he is not capable 
of receiving their bountj, which would make 
him happy for life, by not being a master of arts, 
which, by the statutes of the school, the master 
of it must be. 

" Now, these gentlemen do me the honor to 
think, that I have interest enough in you, to 
prevail upon you to write to Dean Swift, to per- 
suade the University of Dublin to send a dipio- 



MEMOIU OF DR. JOHNSON. 27 

ma to me, constituting this poor man master of 
arts in their university. They highly extol the 
man's learning and probity, and will not be per- 
suaded that the university will make any diffi- 
culty of conferring such a favour upon a stran- 
ger, if he is recommended by the Dean, They 
say he is not afraid of the strictest examination, 
though he is of so long a journey; and yet he 
will venture it, if the Dean thinks it necessary, 
choosing rather to die upon the road, than to be 
starved to death in translating for booksellers, 
which has been his only subsistence for some 
time past. 

^^ I fear there is more difficulty in this affair 
than these good natured gentlemen apprehend, 
especially as their election cannot be delayed 
longer than the 1 1th of next month. If you see 
this matter in the same light that it appears to 
me, I hope you will burn this, and pardon me 
for giving you so much trouble about an imprac- 
ticable thing; but, if you think there is a proba- 
bility of obtaining the favor asked, I am sure 
your humanity and propensity to relieve merit 
in distress will incline you to serve the poor man, 
without my adding any more to the trouble I 
have already given you, than assuring you, that 
I am, with great truth, sir, 

" Your very humble servant, 

" GOWER 

'^ Trenthaniy Aug. l5f.'' 



28 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

But this scheme failed him, as all his other 
projects had before it. He was again obliged to 
return to Cave, as his only patron, since he had 
no profession, relations, friends, nor money. 
Here he was again engaged in translation, — but 
not finding employment adequate to his wants, 
he was forced to exert hiuiself, so that his mind 
was constantly fruitful in devising some new 
scheme; though every one proved abortive. 

At the age of thiity, he w^as still mortified 
and pinched by want, and scarcely able to pro- 
vide for the day that was passing over him. A 
sad evidence indeed, that the greater part of 
mankind know not how to appreciate genius. 
About this time, Johnson succeeded Guthrie in 
composing parliamentary speeches for the Mag- 
azine ] these were written with great elegance, 
and universally admired. An important debate 
towards the end of Sir Robert Walpole's admin- 
istration being mentioned. Dr. Francis observ- 
ed, 'Hhat Mr. Pitt's speech on that occasion was 
the best he had ever read." Many remembered 
the debate; and all applauded it. As soon as the 
praise subsided, Johnson uttered these words ; 
" That speech I wrote in a garret in Exeter 
Street." The company were astonished. After 
staring at each other in amazement. Dr. Francis 
asked, '^ how that speech could be written by 
him.^" ^^ Sir," said Johnson, ''I wrote it in Exe- 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 29 

ter-street. I never had been in the gallery ofthe 
house of commons but once in my life. Cave 
had interest with the door-keepers. He, .and the 
persons employed under him, gained admittance; 
they brought away the subjects of discussion, 
the names of the speakers, the side they took, 
and the order in \;hich they rose, together with 
notes ofthe arguments advanced in the course 
of debate. The whole was afterwards commu- 
nicated to me, and I composed the speeches in 
the form which they now have of parliamentary 
debates." '^ Then sir," replied Dr. Francis, 
"you have exceeded Demosthenes himself; 
for to say that you have exceeded Francis's 
Demosthenes, would be to say nothing." 

In 1743-4, Osborne the bookseller purchased 
the Earl of Oxford's library, at the price of 
thirteen thousand pounds. He projected a 
catalogue in five octavo volumes, at five shil- 
lings each. Johnson was employed in that 
painful drudgery. He was likewise to collect 
all such small tracts as were in any degree 
worth preserving, in order to reprint and pub- 
lish the whole in a collection, called '-the Har- 
leian Miscellany." The catalogue was com- 
pleted; and the Miscellany, in 1749, was pub- 
lished in eight quarto volumes. In this busi- 
ness, Johnson was a day-laborer for immediate 
subsistence. What Wilcox, an eminent book- 
s' 



30 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

seller, said to Johnson on his first arrival in 
town was nearly verif ed. He lent our author 
live guineas, and then said to him, " How do 
you mean to earn your livelihood in this town ?" 
^' By my literary labours," was the answer. 
Wilcox stared at him, and shook his head; ^' by 
your literary labours! You had better buy a 
porter's knot." Johnson used to tell this anec- 
dote in more prosperous days; but he said, 
^' Wilcox was one of my best friends, and he 
meant well." It is related of him, that he 
paused occasionally to peruse the book that 
came to his hand. Osborne thought such con- 
duct only tended to delay, and he objected to it, 
as he paid him daily wages. In the dispute, John- 
son got quite enraged; and all the roughness of 
his character developed itself, by seizing a folio 
and knocking the bookseller down. If an apol- 
ogy be necessary, when we take into consider- 
ation 4he severe tests with which he had been 
tried, it must be found in the violence of his 
temper, which had been so often irritated by 
seeing his real merit ever under-rated. Soon 
after this, we find a new Dictionary contemplated 
upon an enlarged plan. Johnson made an ar- 
rangement with his booksellers, and went about 
the slow tedious process. He had hitherto 
lodged only in obscure places with his wife ; 
but to be nearer his printer and a friend, he 
ventured to take a house. He understood that 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 31 

the Earl of Chesterfield was a friend to his un- 
dertaking. He accordingly published, in 1747, 
The Plan of a Dictionary of the English Lan- 
guage^ addressed to the right Honorable Philip 
Dormer, Earl of Chesterfield, one of his Majesty'^ s 
principal Secretaries of State. After this, he re- 
ceived an invitation to call on Lord Chesterfield. 
The contrast between the two characters was 
very striking. One had all the graces of a polite 
education, the other was a stranger to polite 
manners^ and extremely awkward. Chesterfield 
was not much pleased with his guest; and he 
described him in very ludicrous terms. His 
tragedy of Irene was now got up by Garrick; 
and during the representation of this piece, 
Johnson attended every night behind the scenes, 
decorated with a handsome waistcoat, and a 
gold laced hat. But, said Johnson with great 
gravity, '' I was soon obliged to lay aside my 
gold laced hat, lest it should make me proud." 
His benefit was very trifling. 

About this time, he projected the Rambler. 
He could not endure dependence, and to get 
above it he resolved to write still longer. He 
communicated his plan to no earthly being, but 
invoked the aid of his Heavenly Father in a 
solemn prayer for a blessing upon his under- 
taking. 

This great work being commenced, he issued 



32 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

the numbers regularly for two years, every 
Tuesday and Saturday. The whole number of 
Essays amounted to two hundred and eight. 
He received Htlle help from others, and it is 
wonderful how he could accomplish so much. 
We will take his own words to describe his sit- 
uation: ''He that condemns himself to compose 
on a stated day, will often bring to his task an 
attention dissipated, an imagination overwhelm- 
ed, a mind distracted with anxieties, a body 
languishing with disease; he will labour on a 
barren topic, till it is too late to change it; or 
in the ardor of invention, diffuse his thought^ 
into wild exuberance, which the pressing hour 
of publication will not suffer judgment to exam- 
ine or reduce." 

Of this excellent production, the number sold 
on each day did not amount to five hundred. 
Johnson received four guineas a week for edit- 
injj it. Of course, the bookseller did not make 
much ; but his perseverance must be com- 
mended; and when the collection appeared in 
volumes, was amply rewarded. Johnson lived 
to see his labors flourish in a tenth edition. 

In March, 1752, his wife died. Probably 
the approaching dissolution of his beloved part- 
ner put an end to those admirable periodical 
essays. He placed a Latin inscription on her 



MEMOIR OF BR. JOHNSON. 33 

tomb, celebrating]^ her beauty. In his memoran- 
dum, he says, " Thought on Tetty, poor dear 
Tetty, with my eyes full." This shows the 
sensitiveness of his nature, and the strength of 
his love. 

During the two years that the Rambler w^as 
carried on, the Dictionary proceeded by slow 
degrees. It was completed in 1754, but poor 
Cave did not live to see the triumph of his 
friend's labors. It was published in May, 1755. 
Johnson was desirous that it should come from 
one who had obtained academical honors ; and 
for that purpose his friend, Mr. Thomas War- 
ton, obtained for him the February preceding, a 
diploma for a master's degree from the univer- 
sity of Oxford. 

In the course of the winter preceding this 
grand publication, the Earl of Chesterfield gave 
two essays in the periodical paper, called "" The 
World," dated Nov. 28, and Dec. 5th, 1754, 
to prepare the public for so important a work. 
The original plan, addressed to his lordship in 
the year 1747, is there mentioned in terms of 
the highest praise, and this was understood 
at the time, to be a courtly way of solicit- 
ing a Dedication of the Dictionary to himself 
Johnson treated this civility with disdain. He 
said to some friends, '' I have sailed a long 
and painful voyage round the world of the Eng- 



34 MEMOIR OF Dti., JOHNSON. 

lish language ; and does he now send me two 
cock-boats to tow me into harbor? " Such a 
man, as he himself said, ''who had not worked 
in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under 
the shelter of academic bowers, but amidst in- 
convenience and distraction, in sickness and in 
sorrow, and without the patronage of the great/' 
was not to be caught by a flattering bait from 
the Earl. He had in vain sought the patron- 
age of that nobleman; at last with feelings of 
pride and disappointment, he addressed to him 
the following letter, dated Feb. 1755. 

" To the Right Hon. the Earl of Chesterfield, 

" My Lord, — I have been lately informed, 
by the proprietors of The World, that two pa- 
pers, in which my Dictionary is recommended 
to the public, were written by your lordship. 
To be so distinguished is an honor, which, be- 
ing very little accustomed to favors from the 
great, I know not uell how to receive, or in 
what terms to acknowledge. 

'' When upon some slight encouragement, I 
first visited your lordship, I was overpowered, 
like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of 
your address, and could not forbear to wish, that 
I might boast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur 
de le terre ; that I might obtain that regard for 
which I saw the world contending. But I found 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 35 

my attendance so little encouraged, that neither 
pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue 
it. When 1 had once addressed your lordship 
in public, I exhausted all the art of pleasing, 
which a retired and uncourtly scholar can pos- 
sess^ I had done all that I could; and no man 
is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it 
ever so little. 

^^ Seven years, my lord, have now passed 
since I waited in your outward room, or was re- 
pulsed from your door; during which time I have 
been pushing on my work through difficulties, of 
which it is useless to complain, and have brought 
it at last to the verge of publication, w^ithout 
one act of assistance, one word of encourage- 
ment, or one smile of favour. Such treatment 
I did not expect, for I never had a patron be- 
fore. 

" The Shepherd in Virgil grew acquainted 
with Love, and found him a native of the rocks. 

" Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks 
with unconcern on a man struggling for life in 
the water, and when he has reached ground, 
encumbers him with help? The notice which 
you have been pleased to take of my labours, 
had it been early, had been kind; but it has 
been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot 
enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; 
till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it 



36 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

is no very cynical asperity not to confess obliga- 
tions where no benefit has been received; or to 
be unwilling that the public should consider me 
as owing that to a patron, which Providence 
has enabled me to do for myself 

'^ Having carried on my work thus far with so 
little obligation to any favorer of learning, I 
shall not be disappointed, though I should con- 
clude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have 
been long wakened from that dream of hope, in 
which I once boasted myself with so much ex- 
ultation, 

'^ My Lord, your lordship's most humble, and 
most obedient servant, 

" Samuel Johnson." 

It is said, upon good authority, that Johnson 
once received from Lord Chesterfield the sum 
often pounds. It were to be wished that the 
secret had never transpired. It was mean to 
receive it, and meaner to give it. It may be 
imagined, that for Johnson's ferocity, as it has 
been called, there was some foundation in his 
finances; and, as his Dictionary was brought to 
a conclusion, that money was now to flow in up- 
on him. The reverse was the case. For his 
subsistence, during the progress of the work, he 
had received at different times the amount of 
his contract; and when his receipts were pro- 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 37 

duced to him at a tavern dinner, given by the 
booksellers, it appeared, that- he had been paid 
a hundred pounds and upwards more than his 
due. 

^' Mr. Murphy being engaged in a periodical 
paper, the Gray's Inn Journal, was at a friend's 
house in the country, and, not being disposed 
to lose pleasure for business, wished to content 
his bookseller by some unstudied essay. He 
therefore took up a French Journal Liter aire, 
and translating something he liked, sent it away 
to town. Time, however, discovered that he 
translated from the French a Rambler, which 
had been taken from the English without ac- 
knowledgment. Upon this discovery, Mr. 
Murphy thought it right to make his excuses to 
Dr. Johnson. He went next day, and found 
him covered with soot, like a chimney sweeper, 
in a little room, as if he had been acting Lungs 
in the Alchemist, making ether. This being 
told by Mr. Murphy in company, '' Come, 
come," said Dr. Johnson, ^^ the story is black 
enough; but it was a happy day that brought 
you first to my house." After this first visit, 
the author of this narrative by degrees grew 
intimate with Dr. Johnson. The first striking 
sentence, that he heard from him, was a few 
days after the publication of Lord Bolingbroke's 
posthumous works. Mr. Garrick asked him 
4 



38 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

^'Ifhe had seen them?" ^^ Yes, I have seen 
them." "What do you think of them?" 
" Think of them! " He made a long pause, 
and then replied; " Think of them! A scoun- 
drel, and a coward! A scoundrel, who spent 
his life in charging a gun against Christianity; 
and a coward, who was afraid of hearing the re- 
port of his own gun; but left half a crown to a 
hungry Scotchman to draw the trigger after his 
death." His mind, at this lime, strained and 
overlabored by constant exertion, called for 
an interval of repose and indolence. But indo- 
lence was the time of danger; it was then that 
his spirits, not employed abroad, turned with 
inward hostility against himself His reflec- 
tions on his own life and conduct were always 
severe; and, wishing to be immaculate, he des- 
troyed his own peace by unnecessary scruples. 
He tells us, that when he surveyed his past life, 
he discovered nothing but a barren waste of 
time, with some disorders of body, and disturb- 
ances of mind, very near to madness. His life, 
he says, from his earliest years, was wasted in 
a morning bed; and his reigning sin was a gen- 
eral sluggishness, to which he was always in- 
clined, and in part of his life, almost compelled^ 
by morbid melancholy, and weariness of mind. 
This was his constitutional malady, derived, 
perhaps, from his father, who was. at times, 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 39 

overcast with agloom that bordered on insanity. 
When to this it is added, that Johnson, about 
the age of twenty, drew up a description of his 
infirmities, for Dr. Swinfen, at that time an em- 
inent physician in Staffordshire; and received 
an answer to his letter, importing, that the 
symptoms indicated a future privation of reason; 
who can wonder that he was troubled with mel- 
ancholy and dejection of spirit? An apprehen- 
sion of the worst calamity that can befal human 
nature, hung over him all the rest of his life, 
like the sword of the tyrant suspended over his 
guest. In his sixtieth year he had a mind to 
write the history of his melancholy; but he de- 
sisted, not knowing whether it would not too 
much disturb him. In a Latin poem, however, 
to which he has prefixed, as a title, rNflGI 
2EATTON, he has left a picture of himself, 
drawn with as much truth, and as firm a hand, 
as can be seen in the portraits of Hogarth or 
Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

About this time Johnson contributed several 
papers to a periodical Miscellany, called the 
Visitor, from motives which are highly honor- 
able to him, — a compassionate regard for the 
late Mr. Christopher Smart. The Criticism on 
Pope's Epitaphs appeared in that work. In a 
short time after, he became a reviewer in the 
Literary Magazine, under the auspices of the 



40 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

late Mr. Newbery, a man of a projecting head, 
good taste, and great industry. This employ- 
ment engrossed but little of Johnson's time. 
He resigned himself to indolence, took no exer- 
cise, rose about two, and then received the vis- 
its of his friends. Authors, long since forgot- 
ten, waited upon him as their oracle, and he 
gave responses in the chair of criticism. He 
listened to the complaints, the schemes, and the 
hopes and fears, of a crowd of inferior writers, 
" who," he said, in the words of Roger Ascham, 
" lived, men knew not how, and died obscure, 
men marked not when." He believed, that he 
could give a better history of Grub Street than 
any man living. His house was filled with a 
succession of visitors till four or five in the eve- 
ning. During the whole time he presided at 
his tea table. Tea was his favorite beverage; 
and, when the late Jonas Hanway pronounced 
his anathema against the use of tea, Johnson 
rose in defence of his habitual practice, declar- 
ing himself '' in that article a hardened sinner, 
who had for years diluted his meals with the 
infusion of that fascinating plant; whose tea 
kettle had no time to cool; v^ho with tea solaced 
the midnight hour, and with tea welcomed the 
morning." 

The proposal for a new edition of Shakspeare, 
which had formerly miscarried, was resumed in 



MEMOIR or DR. JOHNSON. 41 

the year 1756. The booksellers readily agreed 
to his terms; and subscription tickets were is- 
sued out. For undertaking this work, money, 
he confessed, was the inciting motive. His 
friends exerted themselves to promote his in- 
terest; and, in the mean time, he engaged in a 
new periodical production called The Idler. 
The first number appeared on Saturday, April 
15, 1758; and the last, April 5, 1760. The pro- 
fits of this w^ork, and the subscriptions for the 
new edition of Shakspeare, were the means by 
which he supported himself for four or five 
years. In 1759 was published Rasselas, Prince 
of Abyssinia. His translation of Lobo's Voy- 
age to Abyssinia seems to have pointed out that 
country for the scene of action; and Rassila 
Christos, the general of Sultan Segued, men- 
tioned in that work, most probably suggested 
the name of the prince. The author wanted to 
set out on a journey to Lichfield, in order to 
pay the last offices of filial piety to his mother, 
who at the age of ninety, was then near her dis- 
solution; but money was necessary. Mr. John- 
son, a bookseller, who had long since left off* 
business, gave one hundred pounds for the copy. 
With this supply Johnson set out for Lichfield; 
but did not arrive in time to close the eyes of a 

parent whom he loved. He attended the fune- 
4* 



42 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

ral, which, as appears among his memorandums, 
was on the 23d of January, 1759. 

Johnson now found it necessary to retrench 
his expenses. He gave up his house in Gough 
Square. Mrs. Williams went into lodgings. 
He retired to Gray's Inn, and soon removed to 
chambers in the Inner Temple Lane, where he 
lived in poverty, total idleness, and the pride of 
literature. Magni stat nomiiiis umbra, Mr. 
Fitzherbert, the father of Lord St. Helens, 
then Minister at Madrid, a man distinguished 
through life for his benevolence and other amia- 
ble qualities, used to say, that he paid a morn- 
ing visit to Johnson, intending from his cham- 
bers to send a letter into the city; but, to his 
great surprise, he found an author by profession 
without pen, ink, or paper. The present bishop 
of Salisbury was also among those who endeav- 
ored, by constant attention, to sooth the cares 
of a mind which he knew to be afflicted with 
gloomy apprehensions. At one of the parties 
made at his house, Boscovich, the Jesuit, who 
had than lately introduced the Newtonian phil- 
osophy at Rome, and, after publishing an ele- 
gant Latin poem on the subject, was made a 
fellow of the Royal Society, was one of the 
company invited to meet Dr. Johnson. The 
conversation at first was mostly in French. 
Johnson, though thoroughly versed in that Ian- 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 43 

guage, and a professed admirer of Boileau and 
La Bruyere, did not understand its pronuncia- 
tion, nor could he speak it himself with propri- 
ety. For the rest of the evening the talk was 
in Latin. Boscovich had a ready current flow 
of that flimsy phraseology with which a priest 
may travel through Italy, Spain and Germany. 
Johnson scorned what he called colloquial bar- 
barisms. It was his pride to speak his best. 
He went on, after a little practice, with as much 
facility as if it w^as his native tongue. One 
sentence this writer well remembers. Observ- 
ing that Fontinelle at first opposed the Newto- 
nian philosophy, and embraced it afterwards, 
his words were; FontiJieMus , nifallor^in extrema 
senectute,fuit transfuga ad castra Newtoniana . 
We have now travelled through that part of 
Dr. Johnson's life which was a perpetual strug- 
gle with difficulties. Halcyon days are now 
to open upon him. In the month of May, 1762, 
his Majesty, to reward literary merit, signified 
his pleasure to grant Johnson a pension of three 
hundred pounds a year. The Earl of Bute was 
minister. Lord Loughborough, who perhaps 
was originally a mover in the business, had 
authority to mention it. He was well acquaint- 
ed with Johnson; but, having heard much of his 
independent spirit, and of the downfal of Os^ 
borne the bookseller, he. did not know but his 



44 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSOK. 

benevolence might be rewarded with a folio on 
his head. He desired the author of these me- 
moirs (Mr. Murphy) to undertake the task. This 
writer thought the opportunity of doing so much 
good the most happy incident in his life. He 
went, without delay, to the chambers in the Inner 
Temple Lane, which, in fact, were the abode of 
wretchedness. By slow and studied approaches 
the message was disclosed. Johnson made a 
long pause; he asked if it was seriously intend- 
ed.^ He fell into a profound meditation, and 
his own definition of a pensioner occurred to 
him. He was told, '^ That he, at least, did not 
come within the definition." He desired to 
meet next day and dine at the Mitre Tavern. 
At that meeting he gave up all his scruples. 
On the follow ing day Lord Loughborough con- 
ducted him to the Earl of Bute. The conver- 
sation that passed was in the evening relate3 to 
this writer by Dr. Johnson. He expressed his 
sense of his majesty's bounty, and thought him- 
self the more highly honored, as the favor was 
not bestowed on him for having dipped his pen 
in faction. " No, Sir," said Lord Bute, '^ it is 
not offered to you for having dipped your pen in 
faction, nor with a design that you ever should." 
Sir John Hawkins will have it, that after this 
interview, Johnson was often pressed to wait on 
Lord Bute, but with a sullen spirit refused to 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 45 

comply. However that be, Johnson was never 
heard to utter a disrespectful word of that no- 
bleman. The writer of this memoir remembers 
a circumstance which may throw some light on 
this subject. The late Dr. Rose, of Chiswick, 
whom Johnson loved and respected, contended 
for the pre eminence of the Scotch writers; and 
Ferguson's book on Civil Society, then on the 
eve of publication, he said, would give the laurel 
to jN"orth Britain. '' Alas ! what can he do 
upon that subject ?" said Johnson. ^' Aristotle, 
Polybius, Grotius, PufTendorf, and Burlemaqui, 
have reaped in that field before him." " He 
will treat it," said Dr. Rose, ^' in a new man- 
ner." " A new manner! Buckinger had no 
hands, and he wrote his name with his toes at 
Charing Cross, for half a crown apiece; that 
was a new manner of writing! " Dr. Rose re- 
plied, " If that will not satisfy you, I will name 
a writer, whom you must allow to be the best in 
the kingdom." '' Who is that? " '' The Earl 
of Bute, when he wrote an order for your pen- 
sion." '' There, sir," said Johnson, ^' you have 
me in the toil; to Lord Bute I must allow^ what- 
ever praise you claim for him." Ingratitude 
was no part of Johnson's character. 

Being now in the possession of a regular in- 
come, Johnson left his chambers in the Temple, 
and once more became master of a house in 



46 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

Johnson's Court, Fleet street. Dr. Levet, his 
friend, and physician in ordinary, paid his daily 
visits with assiduity; made tea all the morning, 
talked what he had to say, and did not expect 
an answer. Mrs. Williams had her apartment 
in the house, and entertained her benefactor 
with more enlarged conversation. Chemistry 
was part of Johnson's amusement. For this 
love of experimental philosophy, Sir John Haw- 
kins thinks an apology necessary. He tells us^ 
with great gravity, that curiosity was the only 
object in view; not an intention to grow sud- 
denly rich by the philosopher's stone, or the 
transmutation of metals. To enlarge his circle, 
Johnson once more had recourse to a literary 
club. This was at the Turk's Head, in Gerard 
Street, Soho, on every Tuesday evening through 
the year. The members were, besides himself, 
the right honorable Edmund Burke, Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, Dr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, the late 
Mr. Topham Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Mr. 
Chamier, Sir John Hawkins, and some others. 
Johnson's affection for Sir Joshua was founded 
on a long acquaintance, and a thorough know- 
ledge of the virtues and amiable qualities of 
that excellent artist. He delighted in the con- 
versation of Mr. Burke. He met him for the 
arst time at Mr. Garrick's, several years ago. 
^n the next day he said, '' I suppose, Murphy, 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 47 

you are proud of your countryman. Cum talis 
SIT UTiNAM NosTER ESSEX !" From that time 
his constant observation was, " That a man of 
sense could not meet Mr. Burke by accident, 
under a gateway to avoid a shower, without be- 
ing convinced that he was the first man in Eng- 
land." Johnson felt not only kindness, but 
zeal and ardor for his friends. He did every 
thing in his power to advance the reputation of 
Dr. Goldsmith. He loved him, though he knew 
his failings, and particularly the leaven of envy, 
which corroded the mind of that elegant writer, 
and made him impatient, without disguise, of 
the praises bestowed on any person whatever. 
Of this infirmity, which marked Goldsmith's 
character, Johnson gave a remarkable instance. 
It happened that he went with Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds and Goldsmith to see the Fantoccini, 
which were exhibited some years ago in or near 
the Haymarket. They admired the curious 
mechanism by which the puppets were made to 
walk the stage, draw a chair to the table, sit 
down, write a letter, and | erform a variety of 
other actions, with such dexterity, that though 
nature^ s journeymen made the men^ they imitated 
humanity to the astonishment of the spectator. 
The entertainment being over, the three friends 
retired to a tavern. Johnson and Sir Joshua 
talked with pleasure of what they had seen^ 



48 MEMOIR OF DH. JOHNSOBTc 

and, says Johnson, in a tone of admiration^ 
'' How the little fellow brandished his spon- 
toon!'' '^ There is nothing in it," replied 
Goldsmith, starting up with impatience ; '' give 
me a spontoon ; I can do it ^s well myself" 

Enjoying his amusements at his weekly club, 
and happy in a state of independence, Johnson 
gained, in the year 1765, another resource, 
which contributed more than any thing else to 
exempt him from the solicitudes of life. He 
was introduced to the late Mr. Thrale and his 
family. Mrs. Piozzi has related the fact, and 
it is therefore needless to repeat it in this place. 
The author of this narrative looks back to the 
share he had in that business with self conojrat- 
ulation, since he knows the tenderness which 
from that time soothed Johnson's cares at 
Streatham, and prolonged a valuable life. The 
subscribers to Shakspeare began to despair of 
ever seeing the promised edition. To acquit 
himself of this obligation, he went to work un- 
willingly, but proceeded with vigor. In the 
month of October, 1765, Shakspeare was pub- 
lished; and, in a short time after, the university 
of Dublin sent over a diploma, in honorable 
terms, creating him a doctor of laws. Oxford 
in eight or ten years afterwards followed the 
example; and till then Johnson never assumed 
the title of doctor. In 1766 his constitution 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 49 

seemed to be in a rapid decline; and that morbid 
melancholy, which often clouded his understand- 
ings came upon him with a deeper gloom than 
ever. Mr. -and Mrs. Thrale paid him a visit in 
this situation, and found him on his knees, with 
Dr. Delap, the rector of Lewes, in Sussex, be- 
seeching (xod to continue to him the use of his 
understanding. Mr. Thrale took him to his 
house at Streatham; and Johnson from that 
time became a constant resident in the family. 
He went occasionally to the club in Gerard 
Street; but his head quarters were fixed at 
Streatham. An apartment was fitted up for 
him, and the library was greatly enlarged. 
Parties were constantly invited from town; and 
Johnson was every day at an elegant table, with 
select and polished company. Whatever could 
be devised by Mr. and Mrs. Thrale to promote 
the happiness, and establish the health of their 
guest, was studiously performed from that time 
to the end of Mr. Thrale's life. Johnson ac. 
companied the family in all their summer ex- 
cursions to Brighthelmstone, to Wales, and to 
Paris. It is but justice to Mr. Thrale to say, 
that a more ingenuous frame of mind no man 
possessed. His education at Oxford gave him 
the habits of a gentleman; his amiable temper 
recommended his conversation; and the good- 
ness of his heart made him a sincere friend. 
5 



50 MEMOIR OF DE. JOHNSOK. 

That he was the patron of Johnson is an honor 
to his memory. 

In petty disputes with contemporary writers, 
or the wits of the age, Johnson was- seldom en- 
tangled. A single incident of that kind may 
not be unworthy of notice, since it happened 
with a man of great celebrity in his time. A 
number of friends dined with Garrick on a 
Christmas day. Foote was then in Ireland. It 
was said at table, that the modern Aristophanes^ 
so Foote was called, had been horsewhipped by 
a Dublin apothecary, for mimicking him on the 
stage. ^' I wonder," said Garrick, " that any 
man should show so much resentment to Foote; 
he has a patent for such liberties; nobody ever 
thought it worth his while to quarrel with him in 
London." " I am glad," said Johnson, " to 
find that the man is rising in the world." The 
expression was afterwards reported to Foote; 
who, in return, gave out, that he would produce 
the Caliban of literature on the stage. Being 
informed of this design, Johnson sent word to 
Foote, '' That the theatre being intended for the 
reformation of vice, he would step from the boxes 
on the stage, and correct him before the audi- 
dience." Foote knew the intrepidity of his 
antagonist, and abandoned the design. No ill 
will ensued. Johnson used to say, '^ That, for 
broad'faced mirth, Foote had not his equal.'* 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 51 

Dr. Johnson's fame excited the curiosity of 
the king. His majesty expressed a desire to 
see a man of -"^vhom extras rdinary things were 
said. Accordingly, the librarian at Bucking- 
ham house invited Johnson to see that elegant 
collection of books, at the same time giving a 
hint of what was intended. His majesty entered 
the room^ and, among other thingSj asked the 
author, '' If he meant to give the world any 
more ofhis compositions.^ " Johnson answered, 
^' That he thought he had written enough." 
^^ And I should think so too," replied his majes. 
tjy '' if you had not written so well." 

We now take leave of Dr. Johnson as an au- 
thor. Four volumes of his Lives of the Poets 
were published in 1778, and the work was com- 
pleted in 1781. Should biography fall again in- 
^o disuse, there will not always be a Johnson to 
look back through a century, and give a body 
of critical and moral instruction. In April 1781? 
he lost his friend Mr. Thrale. His ov/n words, 
in his diary, will best tell that melancholy event. 
''On Wednesday, the 11th of April, was buried 
my dear friend, Mr. Thrale, who died on Wed- 
nesday the 4th, and with him were buried many 
of my'hopes and pleasures. About five, I think, 
on Wednesday morning, he expired. I felt al- 
most the last flutter ofhis pulse, and looked for 
he last time upon the face^ that for fifteen years 



52 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

before, had never been turned upon me but with 
respect and benignity. Farewell! may God, 
that dehghteth in mercy, have had mercy on 
thee! I had constantly prayed for him before his 
death. The decease of him, from whose friend- 
ship I had obtained many opportunities of amuse- 
ment, and to whom I turned my thoughts as to 
a refuge from misfortunes, has left me heavy. 
But my business is with niyself '' From the 
close of his last work, the malady that persecut- 
ed him through life came upon him with alarm- 
ing severity, and his constitution declined apace. 
In 1782, his old friend, Levet, expired without 
warning, and without a groan. Events like 
these reminded Johnson of his own mortality. 
He continued his visits to Mrs. Thrale at 
Streatham, to the 7th day of October, 1782, 
when, having first composed a prayer for the 
happiness of a family with whom he had for 
many years enjoyed the pleasures and comforts 
of life, he removed to his own house in town. 
He says he was up early in the morning, and 
read fortuitously in the gospel, which was his 
parting use of the library. The merit of the 
family is manifested by the sense he had of ity 
and we see his heart overflowing with gratitude. 
He leaves the place with regret, and '' casts a 
lingering look behind." 

The few remaining occurrences may be soon 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHZnSON. 53 

despatched. In the month of June, 1783, John 
son had a paralytic stroke, which affected his 
speech only. He wrote to Dr. Taylor of West- 
minster, and to his friend Mr. Allen, the printer, 
who lived at the next door. Dr. Brocklesby 
arrived in a short time, and by his care, and 
that of Dr. Heberden, Johnson soon recovered. 
During his illness the writer of this narrative 
visited him, and found him reading Dr. Wat- 
son's Chemistry. Articulating with difficulty, 
he said, '' From this book, he who knows no- 
thing may learn a great deal ; and he who 
knows, will be pleased to find his knowledge re- 
called to his mind in a manner highly pleasing." 
In the month of August he set out for Lichfield, 
on a visit to Mrs. Lucy Porter, the daughter of 
his wife by her first husband; and in his way 
back paid his respects to Dr. Adams at Oxford. 
Mrs. Williams died at his house in Bolt Court^ 
in the month of September, during his absence. 
This was another shock to a mind like his, ever 
agitated by the thoughts of futurity. The con- 
templation of his own approaching end was con- 
stantly before his eyes; and the prospect of 
■death, he declared, was terrible. 

By the death of Mrs. Williams he was left in 
a state of destitution, with nobody but Frank, 
his black servant, to sooth his anxious moments. 
In November, 1783, he was swelled from head 



64 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

to foot with a dropsy. Dr. Brocklesby paid 
his visits with assiduity, and the medicines pre- 
scribed were happily efficacious. 

Johnson, being eased of his dropsy, began to 
entertain hopes that the vigor of his constitution 
was not entirely broken. For the sake of con- 
versing with his friends, he established a con- 
versation club, to meet on every Wednesday 
evening; and, to serve a man whom he had 
known in Mr. Thrale's household for many 
years, the place was fixed at his house in Essex 
Street, near the Temple. The members of 
this club were respectable for their rank, their 
talents, and their literature. They attended 
with punctuality till about midsummer, 1784^ 
when, with some appearance of health, Johnson 
went into Derbyshire, and thence to Lichfield. 
While he was in that part of the world, his 
friends in town were laboring for his benefit. 
The air of a more southern climate they thought 
might prolong a valuable life. But a pension 
of three hundred pounds a year was a slender 
fund for a travelling valetudinarian, and it was 
not then known that he had saved a moderate 
sum of money. Mr. Bosvvell and Sir Joshua 
Reynolds undertook to solicit the patronage of 
the chancellor. With Lord Thurlow, while he 
was at the bar, Johnson was well acquainted. 
He was often heard to say, ''Thurlow is a man 



MEMOIR OF PR. JOHNSON. 55 

of such vigor of mind, that I never knew I was 
to meet him, but, I was going to say, I was 
afraid, — but that would not be true, for I never 
was afraid of any man ; — but I never knew that 
I was to meet Thurlow, but I knew I had some- 
thing to encounter." The chancellor undertook 
to recommend Johnson's case, but without suc- 
cess. To protract, if possible, the days of a 
man whom he respected, he offered to advance 
the sum of five hundred pounds. Being inform- 
ed of this at Lichfield, Johnson wrote the fol- 
lowing letter. 

^^ My L0RD5 — Afler a long and not inatten- 
tive observat'on of mankind, the generosity of 
your lordship's offer raises in me not less won- 
der than gratitude. Bounty, so liberally be- 
stowed, I should gladly receive if my condition 
made it necessary; for to such a mind, who 
would not be proud to own his obligations? 
But it has pleased God to restore me to so great 
a measure of health, that, if I should now ap- 
propriate so much of a fortune destined to do 
good, I could not escape from myself the charge 
of advancing a false claim. My journey to the 
continent, though I once thought it necessary, 
was never much encouraged by my physicians; 
and I was very desirous that your lordship 
should be told it by Sir Joshua Reynolds, as an 



56 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

event very uncertain; for if I grew much better, 
I should not be willing; if much worse, I should 
not be able to migrate. Your lordship was first 
solicited without my knowledge; but when 1 
was told that you were pleased to honor me with 
your patronage, I did not expect to hear of a 
refusal; yet, as I have had no long time to brood 
hopes, and have not rioted in imaginary opu- 
lence, this cold reception has been scarce a dis- 
appointment; and from your lordship's kindness 
I have received a benefit which only men like 
you are able to bestow. I shall now live mihi 
carior, with a higher opinion of my own merit. 

" I am, my lord, your lordship's most obliged, 
most grateful, and most humble servant, 

'^ Samuel Johnson. 

''September^ 1784.'^ 

We have in this instance the exertion of two 
congenial minds; one, with a generous impulse 
relieving merit in distress; and the other by 
gratitude and dignity of sentiment rising to an 
equal elevation. 

In the month of October, 1784, we find Dr. 
Johnson corresponding with Mr. Nichols, the 
intelligent compiler of the Gentleman's Maga- 
zine, and, in the langor of sickness, still desir- 
ous to contribute all in his power to the ad- 
vancement of science and useful knowledge. 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 57 

He says, in a letter to that gentleman, dated 
Lichfield, October 20, *^that he should be glad 
to give so skilful a lover of antiquities any in- 
formation." He adds, " at Ashburne, where I 
had very little company, I had the luck to bor- 
row Mr. Bowyer's life, a book so full of contem- 
porary history, that a literary man must find 
some of his old friends. I thought that I could 
now and then have told you some hints worth 
your notice. We perhaps may talk a life over. 
I hope we shall be much together. You must 
now be to me what you were before, and what 
dear Mr. Allen was besides. He was taken un- 
expectedly away, but I think he was a very 
good man. I have made very little progress in 
recovery; I am very weak, and very sleepless; 
but I live on and hope." 

In that languid condition he arrived, on the 
]6th of November, at his house in Bolt Court, 
there to end his days. He laboured with the 
dropsy and an asthma. He was attended by 
Dr. Heberden, Dr. Warren, Dr. Brocklesby, 
Dr. Butter, and Mr. Cruikshank, the eminent 
surgeon. Eternity presented to his mind an 
awful prospect, and, with as much virtue as 
perhaps ever is the lot of man, he shuddered at 
the thought of his dissolution. His fri(»nds 
awakened the comfortable reflection of a well 
spent life; and, as his end drew near, they had 



59 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

the satisfaction of seeing him composed, and 
even cheerful, insomuch that he was able, in 
the course of his restless nights, to make trans- 
lations of Greek epigrams from the Anthologia; 
and to compose a Latin epitaph for his father, 
his mother, aud his brother Nathaniel. He 
meditated, at the same time, a Latin inscription 
to the memory of Garrick; but his vigor was 
exhausted. 

On the morning of Dec. 7, Dr. Johnson re- 
quested to see Mr. Nichols. A few days before, 
he had borrowed some of the early volumes of 
the Magazine, with a professed intention to 
point out the pieces which he had written in that 
collection. The books lay on the table, with 
many leaves doubled down, and in particular 
those which contained his share in the Parlia« 
mentary Debates. Such was the goodness of 
Johnson's heart, that he then declared, that 
'' those debates were the only parts of his writ- 
ings which gave him any compunction; but that 
at the time he wrote them he had no conception 
that he was imposing upon the world, though 
they were frequently written from very slender 
materials, and often from none at all, the mere 
coinage of his own imagination." He added, 
" that he never wrote any part of his work with 
equal velocity. Three columns of the Magazine 
in an hour," he said, " was no uncommon effort; 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON, 58 

which was faster then most persons could have 
transcribed that quantity. In one day in par- 
ticular, and that not a very long one, he wrote 
twelve pages, more in quantity than ever he 
wrote at any other time, except in the Life of 
Savage, of which forty-eight pages in octavo 
were the production of one long day, including 
a part of the night." 

In the course of the conversation he asked, 
whether any of the family of Faden, the printer, 
were living. Being told that the geographer 
near Charing Cross was Faden's son, he said, 
after a short pause, " I borrowed a guinea of 
his father near thirty years ago; be so good as 
to take this, and pay it for me." 

Wishing to discharge every duty, and every 
obligation, Johnson recollected another debt of 
ten pounds which he had borrowed from his 
friend Mr. Hamilton, the printer, about twenty 
years before. He sent the money to Mr. Ham- 
ilton, at his house in Bedford Row, with an 
apology for the length of time. The Rev. Mr. 
Strahan was the bearer of the message, about 
four or five days before Johnson breathed his 
last. 

Mr. Sastres, whom Dr. Johnson esteemed, 
and mentioned in his will, entered the room dur- 
ing his illness. Dr. Johnson, as soon as he saw 
him, stretched forth his hand, and, in a tone of 



60 MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 

lamentatiorij called out, Jam mortturus! But 
the love of life was still an active principle. 
Feeling himself swelled with the dropsy, he con- 
ceived that, by incisions in his legs, the water 
might be discharged. Mr. Cruikshank appre- 
hended that a mortification might be the conse- 
quence; but, to appease a distempered fancy, 
he gently lanced the surface. Johnson cried 
out, ''Deeper, deeper! I want length of life, 
and you are afraid of giving me pain, which I 
do not value." 

On the 8th of December, the Rev. Mr. Stra- 
han drew his will, by which, after a few lega- 
cies, the residue, amounting to about fifteen 
hundred pounds, was bequeathed to Frank, the 
black servant, formerly consigned to the testator 
by his friend Dr. Bathurst. 

The history of a deathbed is painful. Mr. 
Strahan informs us, that the strength of religion 
prevailed against the infirmity of nature; and 
his dread of the Divine Justice subsided into 
a pious trust and humble hope of mercy at the 
Throne of Grace. On Monday, the 13th day 
of December, the last of his existence on this 
side of the grave, the desire of life returned with 
all its former vehemence. He still imagined, 
that, by puncturing his legs, relief might be ob- 
tained. At eight in the morning he tried the 
experiment, but no water followed. In an hour 



MEMOIR OF DR. JOHNSON. 61 

or two after, he fell into a doze, and about seven 
in the evening he expired without a groan. 

On the 20th of the month his remains, with 
due solemnities, and a numerous attendance of 
his friends, were buried in Westminster Abbey, 
near the foot of Shakspeare's monument, and 
close to the grave of the late Mr. Garrick. The 
funeral service was read by his friend Dr. Tay- 
lor. 

A black marble over his grave has the follow- 
ing inscription: 

Samuel Johnson, l. l. d. 

obiit XIII die Decembris, 

Anno Domini 

MDCCLXXXIV. 

^tatis suae lxxv. 



THE 



saiisiasas ©i? ^©lasrsosr^ 



AFFECTATION. 
Affectation naturally counterfeits those ex- 
cellencies which are placed at the greatest dis- 
tance from possibility of attainment, because, 
knowing our own defects, we eagerly endea- 
vour to supply them with artificial excellence. 
— Rambler^ vol. 4. page 104. 

Affectation is to be always distinguished from 
hypocrisy^ as being the art of counterfeiting 
those qualities which we might with innocence 
and safety be known to want. Hypocrisy is 
the necessary burthen of villany ; Affectation 
part of the chosen trappings of folly. — Ibid. v. 
l,p. 124, 125. 

Every man speaks and writes with an intent 
to be understood; and it can seldom happen, 
but he that understands himself might convey 



64 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

his notions to another, if content to be under- 
stood, he did not seek to be admired ; but when 
once he begins to contrive how his sentiments 
may be received, not with most ease to his 
reader, but with most advantage to himself, he 
then transfers bis consideration from words to 
sounds, from sentences to periods, and as he 
grows more elegant, becomes less intelligible. 
—Idler, v. 1, p. 202. 

AFFECTION. 

As for Affection, those that know how to 
operate upon the passions of men, rule it by- 
making ii operate in obedience to the notes 
which please or disgust \X,—JVotes upon Shaks- 
peare, v. 3, p. 215. 



AGRICULTURE. 
Nothing can more fully prove the ingrati- 
tude of mankind, (a crime often charged upon 
them, and often denied) than the little regard 
which the disposers of honorary rewards have 
paid to Agriculture ; which is treated as a sub- 
ject so remote from common life by all those 
who do not immediately hold the plough, or 
give fodder to the ox, that there is room to ques- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 65 

tion, whether a great part of mankind has yet 
been informed that life is sustained by the fruits 
of the e^rih.— Universal J^isiier, p. Ill, 

Agriculture not only gives riches to a nation, 
but the only riches we can call our own, and 
of which we need not fear either deprivation, 
or diminution. — Ibid, p. 112. 

Of nations, as of individuals, the first bles- 
sing is independence. Neither the man nor 
the people can be happy, to whom any hu- 
man power can deny the necessaries, or con- 
veniencies of life. There is no way of living 
without foreign assistance, but by the product 
of our own land improved by our own labour. 
Every other source of plenty is perishable or 
casual. — Ibid. 



AGRICULTURE OF ENGLAND. 
Our country is, perhaps, beyond all others, 
productive of things necessary to life. The 
pine apple thrives better between the tropics, 
and better furs are found in the Northern regions. 
But let us not envy those unnecessary priv- 
ileges ; mankind cannot subsist upon the in- 
digencies of nature, but must be supported 
6* 



66 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

by her corariion gifts ; they must feed upon 
bread and be clothed with wool ; and the nation 
that can furnish these universal commodities, 
may have her ships welcomed at a thousand 
ports, or sit at home, and receive the tribute of 
foreign countries, enjoy their arts, or treasure 
up their gold. — Ibid^ p. 114. 

AGE. 
He that would pass the latter part of his life 
with honour and decency, must, when he is 
youngs consider that he shall one day be old^ 
and remember, when he is oW, that he has once 
been young, — Rambler^ v. 1, p. 304. 

Age seldom fails to change the conduct of 
youth. We grow negligent of time in pro- 
portion as we have less remaining, and suffer 
the last part of life to steal from us in languid 
preparations for future undertakings, or slow ap- 
proaches to remote advantages, in weak hopes 
of some fortuitous occurrence, or drowsy equili- 
brations of undetermined counsel. Whether it be 
that the aged having tasted the pleasures of 
man's condition, and found them delusive, be- 
come less anxious for their attainment, or that 
frequent miscarriages have depressed them to 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 67 

despair, and frozen them to inactivity ; or that 
death shocks them more as it advances upon 
them, and they are afraid to remind themselves 
of their decay, or discover to their own hearts 
that the time of trifling is past. — Ibid, v. 3, p. 32. 

The truth of many maxims of age gives too 
little pleasure to be allowed till it is felt, and 
the miseries of life would be increased beyond 
all human power of endurance, if we were to 
enter the world with the same opinions we carry 
from it. — Ibid^ v. 4, p. 195. 

It is one of die melancholy pleasures of an 
old man to recollect the kindness of friends, 
whose kindness he shall experience no more. — 
Treatise on the Longitude, P? 14. 

An old age, unsupported with matter for dis- 
course and meditation, is much to be dreaded. 
No state can be more destitute than thai of him. 
who, when the delights of sense forsake him, 
has no pleasures of the mind. — JVotes upon 
Shakspeare, v. 9, p. 249. 

There is sometimes a dotage encroaching upon 
wisdom, that produces contradictions. Such a 



68 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

man is positive and confidentj because he knows 
that his naind was once strong, and knows not 
that it is become wccik. Such a man fails not in 
general principles, but fails in the particular 
application. He is knowing in retrospect, and 
ignorant in foresight. While he depends upon 
his memory, and can draw from his repositories 
of knowledge, he utters weighty sentences, and 
gives useful counsel; but as the mind gets en- 
feebled, he loses the order of his ideas, and en- 
tangles himself in his own thoughts, till he re- 
recovers the leading principle, and falls again 
into his former train. — Ibid^ v. 10, p. 241. 



THE VANITY OF WISHING FOR 
OLD AGE. 

Enlarge my life with multitude of days, 
In health and sickness, thus the suppliant prays ; 
Hides from himself his state, and sliuns to know 
That life protracted — is protracted woe. 
Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, 
And shuts up all the passages of joy : 
In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, 
The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flower ; 
With listless eyes the dotard views the store, 
He views and wonders that they please no more. 
Now pall the tasteless meats and joyless wines. 
And luxury with sighs her slave resigns. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 69 

Approach ye minstrels, try the soothing strain, 
And yield the tuneful lenitives of pain. 
No sound, alas ! would touch th' impervious ear, 
Though dancing mountains witness Orpheus near. 
No lute nor lyre his feeble povver attend. 
Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend ; 
But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, 
Perversely grave, or positively wrong. 
The still returning tale, and lingering jest, 
Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest; 
While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer, 
And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear ; 
The watchful guests still hint the last offence, 
The daughter's petulance — the son's expense, 
Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill. 
And mould his passions till they make his will. 

Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade. 
Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade ; 
But unextinguish'd avarice still remains. 
And dreaded losses aggravate his pains; 
He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands, 
His bonds of debts and mortgages of lands ; — 
Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes. 
Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. 

But grant the virtues of a temp'rate prime 
Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime, 
An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay. 
And glides in modest innocence away ; 
Whose peaceful day benevolence endears. 
Whose night congratulating conscience cheers. 
The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend. 
Such age there is, and who would wish its end ? 



70 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

Yet ev'n on this her load misfortune flings. 
To press the weary minutes' flagging wings ; 
New sorrow rises as the day returns, 
A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. 
Now kindred merit fills the sable bier. 
Now lacerated friendship claims a tear ; 
Year chases year, decay pursues decay. 
Still drops some joy from with'ring life away ; 
New forms arise, and diff*'rent views engage, 
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage. 
Till pitying nature signs the last release, 
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace. 

Vanity of Human Wishes^ 



AGE AND YOUTH. 
The notions of the old and young are like 
liquors of different gravity and texture, which 
never can unite. — Rambler, v. 2, p. 89. 

In youth it is common to measure right and 
wrong by the opinion of the world, and in age 
to act without any measure but interest, and So 
lose shame without substituting virtue. — Ibid, 
V. 4. p. 198. 

Such is the condition of life that something is 
always wanting to happiness. In youth we have 
warm hopes, which are soon blasted by rashness 
and negligence, and great designs, which are de- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 71 

feated by inexperience. In age we have knowl- 
edge and prudence, without spirit to exert, or 
motives to prompt them. We are able to 
plan schemes and regulate measures, but have 
not time remaining to bring them to comple- 
tion. — Ibid. 

ADVICE. 
If we consider the manner in which those 
who assume the office of directing the conduct 
of others, execute their undertaking, it will not 
be very wonderful that their labours, .however 
zealous, or affectionate, are frequently useless. 
For, what is the advice that is commonly given ? 
A few general maxims, enforced with vehe- 
mence and inculcated with importunity : but 
failing for want of particular reference and im- 
mediate application. — Ibid, v. 2, p. 192. 

It is not often that a man can have so much 
knowledge of another as is necessary to make 
instruction useful. We are S3metimes not our- 
selves conscious of the original motives of our 
actions, and when we know them, our first care 
is to hide them from the sight of others, and 
often from those most diligently whose superi- 
ority eithe r of power orunderstanding may en- 



72 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

title them to inspect our lives. It is therefore 
very probable that he, who endeavours the 
cure of our intellectual maladies, mistakes their 
cause, and that his prescripiions avail nolliing, 
because he knows not which of the passions, or 
desires is vitiated.— Jiic?. 

Advice, as it always gives a temporary ap- 
pearance of superiority, can never be very 
grateful, even when it is most necessary, or most 
judicious ; but, for the same reason, every one 
is eager to instruct his neighbours. To be wise 
or to be virtuous, is to buy dignity and impor- 
tance at a high price; but when nothing is neces^ 
sary to elevation but detection of the follies or 
the faults of others, no man is so insensible to 
the voice of fame as to linger on the ground. — 
Ibid. 

Advice is offensive, not because it lays us open 
to unexpected regret, or convicts us of any fault 
which has escaped our notice, but because it 
shews us that we are known to others as well 
as ourselves ; and the officious monitor is per- 
secuted with hatred, not because his accusation 
is false, but because he assumes the superiority 
which we are not willing to grant him, and has 
dared to detect what we desire to conceal. — 
Ibid^ V. 3, p. 295. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 73 

ADVERSARY. 

Candour and tenderness are in any relation, 
and on all occasions, eminently amiable, but 
when they are found in an adversary, and found 
so prevalent as to overpower that zeal which 
his cause excites, and that heat which naturally 
increases in the prosecution of argument, and 
which may be, in a great measure, justified by 
the love of truth, they certainly appear with 
particular advantages ; and it is impossible not 
to envy those who possess the friendsiiip of him 
whom it is even some degree of good fortune to 
have known as an enemy. — Letter to Dr. 
Douglas^ p. 3. 

AVARICE. 
Few listen without a desire of conviction to 
those who advise them to spare their money. — 
Idler ^ v. 1. p. 144. 

Avarice is an uniform and tractable vice ; 
other intellectual distempers are different in 
different constitutions of mind. That which 
soothes the pride of one, will offend the pride 
of another ; but to the favour of the covetous 
bring money, and nothing is denied. — Prince of 
Abyssinia^ p. 232. 

7 



74 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

Avarice is always poor, but poor by her own 
fault.— Mer, 7. 2, p. 126. 

ADMIRATION. 
Admiration must be continued by that novel- 
ty which first produced it ; and how much soever 
is given, there must always be reason to imagine 
that more remzms.— Ramble?^, v. 4, p. 257. 

A man once distinguished, soon gains ad- 
mirers. — Life of Roger Ascham, p. 244. 

AMBITION. 

■ Ambition, scornful of restraint, 

Ev'n from the birth, affects supreme command, 
Swells in the breast, and with resistless force 
O'erbears each gentler motion of the^mind ; 
As when a deluge overspreads tho plains, 
The wand'ring rivulets and silver lakes 
Mix undistinguish'd in the general roar. 

Irene, p. 32. 

A Picture of Ambition in the Fate of Cardinal JVolsey. 

In fullrblown dignity see'^Wolsey stand, 
Law in his voice, and Fortune in his hand, 
To him the church, the realm,|their pow'rs consign, 
Through him the rays of legal bounty shine. 
Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r. 
Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r ; 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 75 

Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please, 
And rights submitted, left him none to seize. 

At length his Sov'reign frowns — the train of state 
Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate^ 
Where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye. 
His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly ; — 
At once is lost the pride of awful state, 
The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate, 
The regal palace, the luxurious board. 
The liv'ried army, and the menial lord. 
With age, with cares — with maladies oppress'd, 
He seeks the refuge of monastic rest. 
Grief adds disease, remember'd folly stings. 
And his last sighs reproach the fate of Kings. 

Vanity of Human Wishes* 

ATHEIST. 
It has been long observed that an Atheist 
has no just reason for endeavouring conversions, 
and yet none harrass those minds which they 
can influence w^ith more importunity of solicita- 
tion to adopt their opinions. In proportion as 
they doubt the truth of their own doctrines,^ 
they are desirous to gain the attestation of ano- 
ther understanding, and industriously labour to 
win a proselyte, and eagerly catch at the 
slightest pretence to dignify their sect with a 
celebrated name. — Life of Sir T. Brown, p. 
283. 



76 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

ANGER. 

The maxim which Periander of Corinth, one 
of the seven sages of Greece, left as a memo- 
rial of his knowledge and benevolence, was, 
'' Be master of your anger." He considered 
anger as the great disturber of human life ; the 
chief enemy both of public happiness and pri- 
vate tranquillity, and thought he could not lay 
on posterity a stronger obligation to reverence 
his memory, than by leaving them a salutary 
caution against this outrageous passion. Pride 
is undoubtedly the origin of anger ; but pride, 
like every other passion, if it once breaks loose 
from reason, counteracts its own purposes. A 
passionate man, upon the review of his day, 
will have very few graiifications to offer to his 
pride, when he has considered how his outrages 
were caused ; why they were borne, and in 
what they are likely to end at last. — Rambler^ 
V. 1, p. 60. 62. 

There is an inconsistency in Anger, very 
common in life ; which is, that those who are 
vexed to impatience, are angry to see others 
less disturbed than themselves ; but when others 
begin to rave, they immediately see in them, 
what they could not find in themselves, the de- 
formity and folly of useless rage. — JVotes upon 
Shalcspeare, v. 6, p. 372. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 77 

ABILITY. 
It was] well observed^ by. Pythagoras, ]that 
ability and necessity dwell near each other. — 

i ACCIDENT. 
In^ every performance, Tperhaps in every 
great character, part is the gift of nature, part 
the contribution of accident, and part, very often 
not the greatest part, the effect of voluntary 
election and regular design. — Memoirs of the 
King of Prussia^ p. 100. 



ANTICIPATION. 
Whatever advantage wesnatch beyond a cer- 
tain portion alloted us by nature, is like money 
spent before it is due, which at the time of regu- 
lar payment, willjbe missed^and^regretted. — 
Mer, V. 2. p. 35. 



APPLAUSE. 
It frequently happens that] applause abates 
diligence. Whoever finds himself to have per- 
formed more^than was demanded, will be con- 
tented to spare the labour of unnecessary per- 
formances, and sit down to enjoy at ease his 
superfluities of honour. But long intervals of 



78 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

pleasure dissipate attention and weaken con- 
stancy; nor is it easy for him that has sunk 
from diligence into sloth, to rouse out of his 
lethargy, to recollect his notions, rekindle his 
curiosity, and engage with his former ardour in 
the toils of study. — Rambler^ v. 3. p. 34. 

APPEARANCES (often deceitful) 
In the condition of men, it frequently hap- 
pens that grief and anxiety lie hid under the 
golden robes of prosperity, and the gloom of 
calamity is cheered by secret radiations of hope 
and comfort ; as in the works of nature the 
bog is sometimes covered with flowers, and the 
mine concealed in the barren crags. — Rambler, 
V. 3. p. 135. 

ARMY. 
An army, especially a defensive army, mul- 
tiplies itself. The contagion of enterprize 
spreads from one heart to another ; zeal for a 
native, or detestation for a foreign sovereign : 
hope of sudden greatness or riches, friendship 
or emulation between particular men, or what 
are perhaps more general and powerful, desire 
of novelty, and impatience of inactivity, fill a 
camp with adventurers, add rank to rank, and 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 79 

squadron to squadron. — Memoirs of the King 
of Prussia^ p. 1 18. 



ART. 
The noblest beauties of art are those cf 
which the effect is so extended with rational 
nature, or at least with the whole circle of pol- 
ished life. What is less than this can be only 
pretty, the plaything of fashion and the amuse- 
Rient of a day. — Life of West. 



AUTHOR. 

The task of an author is either to teach what 
is not known, or to recommend known truths 
by his manner of adorning them ; either to let 
new light upon the mind, and open new scenes 
to the prospect, or vary the dress and situation 
of common objects, so as to give ihem fresh 
grace and more powerful attractions. To 
spread such flowers over the regions" through 
which the intellect has already made its pro- 
gress, as may tempt it to return, and take a 
second view of things hastily passed over, or 
negligently regarded. — Rambler, v. 1. p. 13. 

An author who sacrifices virtue to conveni- 
ence, and seems to write without any moral 



80 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

purpose, even the barbarity of his age cannot 
extenuate; for it is always a writer's duty to 
make the world better, and justice is a virtue 
independent on time and place. — Preface to 
ShaJcspeare, p. 19^20. 

Whilst an author is yet living, we estimate 
his powers by the worst performance. When 
he is dead, we rate them by his best. — Preface 
to SJiakspearey p. 1, 

It is seldom that authors rise much above the 
standard of their own age. To add a little to 
what is best will alway be sufficient for present 
praise ; and those who find themselves exalt- 
ed into fame, are willing to credit their encom- 
iasts, and to spare the labour of contending 
with themselves. — Ibid. p. 44. 

He that misses his end, will never be as 
much pleased as he that attains it, even when 
he can impute no part of his failure to himself; 
and when the end is to please the multitude, 
no man perhaps has a right, in things admitting 
of gradation and comparison, to throw the whole 
blame upon his judges, and totally to exclude 
diffidence and shame by a haughty conscious- 
ness of his own excellence, — Life of Cowley. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 81 

Many causes may vitiate a writer's judgment 
of his own works. On that which has cost 
him much labour he sets a high value, because 
lie is unwilling to think he has been diligent in 
vain ; what has been produced vv^ithout toilsome 
effort is considered wath delight, as a proof of 
vigorous faculties and fertile invention ; and the 
last w^ork, whatever it be, has necessarily most 
of the grace of novelty. — Life of Milton. 

A writer who obtains his full purpose loses 
himself in his own lustre. Of an opinion which 
is no longer doubted, the evidence ceases to be 
examined. Of an art universally practised the 
teacher is forgotten. Learning once made 
popular is no longer learning; it has the ap- 
pearance of something which we have bestow- 
ed upon ourselves, as the dew appears to rise 
from the field which it refreshes. — Life of 
Dry den > 

There is a species of writers, who without 
much labour have attained high reputation, and 
who are mentioned with reverence, rather for 
the possession than the exertion of uncommon 
abilities. — Life of Smith. 



82 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 

Tediousness, in an author, is the most fatal 
of all faults. Negligence or errors are single 
and local, but tediousness pervades the whole ; 
other faults are censured and forgotten, but the 
power of tediousness propagates itself. He 
that is weary the first hour is more weary the 
second, as bodies forced into motion contrary 
to their tendency, pass more and more slowly 
through every successive interval of space. — 
Life of Prior. 

An author who asks a subscription soon finds 
that he has enemies. All who do not encour- 
age him, defame him. He that wants money 
will rather be thought angry than poor, and he 
that wishes to save his money, conceals his 
avarice by his malice. — Life oj Pope. 

An author bustling in the world, shewing 
himself in public, and emerging occasionally 
from time to time into notice, might keep his 
works alive by his personal influence : but that 
which conveys little information, and gives no 
great pleasure, must soon give way, as the suc- 
cession of things produces new topics of con- 
versation, and other modes of amusement.— 
Life of Mallet. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 83 

He that expects flights of wit, and sallies of 
pleasantry, from a successful writer, will be 
often disappointed. A man of letters, for the 
most part, spends in the privacies of study that 
season of life in which the manners are to be 
softened into ease, and polished into elegance ; 
and when he has gained knowledge enough to 
be respected, has neglected the minuter arts by 
which he might have pleased. — Rambler ^ v. 1. 
p. 85. 

He by whose writings the heart is rectified, 
the appetites counteracted, and the passions re- 
pressed, may be considered as not unprofitable 
to the great republic of humanity, even though 
his own behaviour should not always exemplify 
his rules. His instructions may diffuse their 
influence to regions in which it will not be en- 
quired, whether the author be good or bad ; to 
times when all his faults and all his follies shall 
be lost In forgetfulness, among things of no 
concern or importance to the world ; and he 
may kindle in thousands, and ten thousands that 
flame which burnt but dimly in himself, through 
the fumes of passion, or the damps of cowardice. 
The vicious moralist may be considered as a 
taper by which we are lighted through the laby-. 



84 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

rinth of complicated passions ; he extends his 
radiance further than his heart, and guides all that 
are within view, but burns only those who make 
too near approaches.- — Rambler^ v. 2. p. 133. 

But the wickedness of a loose, or profane 
author, in his writings, is more attrocious than 
that of the giddy libertine, or drunken ravisber ; 
not only because it extends its effects wider (as 
a pestilence that taints the air is more destruc- 
tive than poison infosed in a draught) but be- 
cause it is committed with cool deliberation. 
By the instantaneous violence of desire, a good 
man may sometimes be surprised before reflec- 
tion can come to his rescue : when the appe- 
tites have strengthened their influence by habit 
they are not easily resisted or suppressed ; but 
for the frigid villany of studious lewdness, for 
the calm malignity of laboured impiety, what 
apology can be invented ? What punishment 
can be adequate to the crime of him who retires 
to solitude for the refinement of debauchery ; 
who tortures his fancy, and ransacks his memo- 
ry, only that he may leave the world less vir- 
tuous than he found it ; tliat he may intercept 
the hopes of the rising generation, and spread 
snares for the soul wiih more dexterity — ,Ibidy 
p. 134. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 85 

He that commences a writer may be consid- 
ered as a kind of general challenger, whom every- 
one has a right to attack, since he quits the com- 
mon rank of life, steps forward beyond the lists, 
and offers his merit to the public judgment. To 
commence author, is to claim praise ; and no 
man can justly aspire to honor but at the haz- 
ard of disgrace. — Ibid^ p. 231. 

Authors and lovers always suffer some infatua- 
tion through the fondness for their separate ob- 
jects, from which only absence can set them free; 
and every man ought to restore himself to the 
full exercise of his judgment, before he does 
that which he cannot do improperly without in- 
juring his honor and his quiet. — Ibid^ v. 4, p. 54. 

That of conniving at another man printing his 
works, and then denying that he gave any au- 
thority, isa stratagem by which an author, pant- 
ing for fame, and yet afraid of seeming to 
challenge it, may (at once to gratify his vanity 
and preserve the appearance of modesty) enter 
the lists and secure a retreat ; and this candor 
might suffer to pass undetected as an innocent 
fraud, but that indeed no fraud is innocent ; for 
the confidence which makes the happiness of so- 
8 



86 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON* 

ciety is, in some degree, diminished by every 
man whose practice is at variance with his 
words. — Life of Sir T. Browne^ p. 257. 

He that teaches us any thing which we knew 
not before, is undoubtedly to be reverenced 
as a master. He that conveys knowledge, by 
more pleasing ways, may very properly be 
loved as a benefactor ; and he that supplies life 
with innocent amusement will be certainly ca- 
ressed as a pleasing companion. — Idler^ v. 2^ 
p. 184. 

That Shakespeare once designed to have 
brought FalstafF on the scene again, we know 
from himself; but whether he could contrive no 
train of adventures suitable to his character, or 
could match him with no companions likely to 
quicken his humour, or could open no new vein 
of pleasantry, and was afraid to continue the 
same strain, lest it should not find the same re- 
ception ; he has, in the play of Henry V. for- 
ever discarded him, and made haste to despatch 
him; perhaps for the same reason for which 
Addison killed Sir Roger de Coverly, that no 
other hand might attempt to exhibit him. 

Let meaner authors learn from this example. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 87 

that it Is dangerous to sell the hear which is not 
yet hunted, — to promise to the public what they 
have not written. — JVotes upon ShaJcspeare, v. 
6, p. 55. 

It is in vain for the nnost skilful author to 
cultivate barrenness — or to paint on vacuity. 
Even Shakspeare could not write well without 
a proper subject. — Ibid, p. 161. 

Neither genius nor practice will always sup- 
ply a hasty writer with the most proper diction. 
— Ibid, V. 10, p. 383. 

It is the nature of personal invective to be 
soon i^nintelligible, and the author that gratifies 
private malice animam vulnere p07iit, destroys 
the efficacy of his own writings, and sacrifices 
the esteem of succeeding times to the laughter 
of a day. — Ibid, v. 2, p. 434. 

APHORISMS. 
We frequently fall into error and folly, not 
because the true principles of action are not 
known, but because, for a time, they are not re- 
membered : he mny therefore be justly num- 
bered amongst the benefactors of mankind, who 



88 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

contracts the great rules of life into short sen- 
tences, that may be easily impressed on the 
memory, and taught by frequent recollection to 
recur habitually to the mind. — Rambler^ v. 4, p. 
84. 

BEAUTY. 

Beauty is so little subject to the examination 
of reason, that Paschal supposes it to end where 
demonstration begins, and maintains that, with- 
out incongruity and absurdity, we cannot speak 
of geometrical beauty. — Rambler ^\. 2, p. 219. 

It requires but little acquaintance with the 
heart to know that woman's first wish is to be 
handsome ; and that consequently the readiest 
method of obtaining her kindness is to praise 
her beauty. — Ibidy v. 4. p. 159. 

The bloom and softness of the female sex are 
not to be expected among the lower classes of 
life, whose faces are exposed to the rudeness of 
the climate, and whose features are sometimes 
contracted by want, and sometimes hardened by 
blasts. Supreme beauty is seldom found in cot- 
tages, or workshops, even where no real hard- 
ships are suffered. To expand the human face 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 89 

to its full perfection, it seems necessary that the 
mind should co-operate by placid ness of con- 
tent, or consciousness of superiority. — Western 
Islands, p. 190. 

Beauty is well known to draw after it ihe 
persecutions of impertinence ; to incite the arti- 
fices of envy, and to raise the flames of unlaw- 
ful love ; yet among ladies whom prudence or 
modesty have made most eminent, who has 
ever complained of the inconveniences of an 
amiable form, or would have purchased safety 
by the loss o( chmms?— -Rambler, v. 3, p. 35, 

As we are more accustomed to beauty than 
deformity, we may conclude that to be the rea- 
son why we approve and admire it, as we ap- 
prove and admire customs and fashions of dress, 
for no other reason than that we are used to 
them : so that though habit and custom cannot 
be said to be the cause of beauty, it is certainly 
the cause of our liking li,— Idler, v. 2, p. 1G7. 

In the works of nature, if we compare one 
species with another, all are equally beautiful, 
and preference is given from custom, or some 
associatiQn of ideas ; and in creatures of ihq 



90 MAXIMS OF JOHNSOJf. 

same species, beauty is the medium, or centre 
of all its various forms. — Ibid, p. 172. 



THE DANGER OF BEAUTY. 

The teeming mother, anxious for her race, 
Begs for each birth the fortune of a face ; 
Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring, 
And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king. 

Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, 
Whom pleasure keeps too busy to be wise ; 
Whom joys with soft varieties invite, 
By day the frolic, and the dance by night ; 
Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, 
And ask the latest fashion of the heart ; 
What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall 

save, 
Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave ? 
Against your fame with fondness hate combines. 
The rival batters and the lover pines. 
With distant voice neglected virtue csills, 
Less heard, and less the faint remonstrance falls : 
Tir'd with contempt she quits the slipp'ry reign, 
And pride and prudence take her seat in vain ; 
In crowds at once, where none the pass defend. 
The harmless freedom and the private friend. 
The guardians yield, by force superior pli'd. 
By interest, prudence ; and by flatt'ry, pride : 
Now beauty falls betrayed, despis'd, distrest, 
And hissing infamy proclaims the rest. 

Vanity of Human Wishes, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 91 

Beauty without kindness dies unenjoyed, and 
undelighting. — JVotes upon Shakspeare, v. 1, 
p. 191. 

Neither man, nor woman will have much 
difficulty to tell how beauty makes riches plea- 
sant, except by declaring ignorance of what 
every one knows, and confessing insensibility 
of what every one feels. — Ibid, v. 2, p. 76. 

It is an observation countenanced by Shaks- 
peare, and some of our best writers, that no 
woman can ever be offended with the mention 
of her beauty. — Ibid, v. 7, p. 18. 

BIOGRAPHY. 
The writer of his own life has at least the 
first qualification of an historian, the knowledge 
of the truth ; and though it may plausibly be 
objected, that his temptations to disguise it are 
equal to his opportunities of knowing it, yet it 
cannot but be thought, that impartiality may be 
expected with equal confidence from him that 
relates the passages of his own life, as from 
him that delivers the transactions of another. 
What is collected by conjecture, (and by con- 
jecture only can one man judge of another's 



92 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

motives or sentiments) is easily modified by 
fancy, or desire ; as objects imperfectly dis- 
cerned lake forms from the hope, or fear of the 
beholder. But that which is fully known can- 
not be falsified but with reluctance of under- 
standing, and alarm of conscience ; — of under- 
standing, the lover of truth ; — of conscience, the 
sentinel of virtue. — Idler, v. 2, p. 181. 

The necessity of complying with tirpes, and 
sparing persons, is the great impediment of 
biography. History may be formed from per- 
manent monuments and records, but lives can 
only be written from personal knowledge, which 
is growing every day less, and in a short time 
is lost for ever. What is known can seldom be 
immediately told, and when it might he told, is 
no longer known. — Life of Addison, 

BUSINESS. 
It very seldom happens to a man that his 
business is his pleasure. What is done from 
necessity, is so often to be done when against 
the present inclination, and so often fills the 
mind with anxiety, that an habitual dislike steals 
upon us, and we shrink involuntarily from the 
remembrance of our task. This is tl]e reason 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 93 

why almost every one wishes to quit his em- 
ployment : — he does not like another state, but 
is disgusted with his own. — Id'er, v. 2, p. 275. 

NATURAL BOUNTIES. 

If the extent of the human view could com- 
prehend the whole frame of the universe, per- 
haps it would be found invariably true, that Pro- 
vidence has given that in greatest plenty, which 
the condition of life makes of greatest use, and 
that nothing is penuriously imparted, or placed 
from the reach of man, of vi^hich a more liberal 
distribution, or a more easy acquisition would 
increase real and rational felicity. — Idle?-, v. I, 
p. 206. 

CONFIDENCE. 

Confidence is the common consequence of 
success. They whose excellence of any kind 
has been loudly celebrated, are ready to con- 
clude that their powers are universal. — Pi^eface 
to Shakspeare^ p. 49. 

Self-confidence is the first requisite to great 
undertakings, yet he who forms his opinion of 
himself, without knowing the powers of other 
men, is very liable to error. — Life of Pope. 



94 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

It may be no less dangerous to claim, on 
certain occasions, too little than too much. 
There is sometliing captivating in spirit and in- 
trepidity, to which we often yield as to a re- 
sistless power ;— nor can he reasonably expect 
the confidence of others, who too apparentl}-' 
distrusts himself. — Itamhler^ v. l? p. 3. 

There would be few enterprizes of great 
labour, or hazard undertaken, if we had not the 
power of magnifying the advantages which we 
persuade ourselves to expect from them. — Ibid^ 
p. 9. 

Men who have great confidence in their own 
penetration, are often, by that confidence, de- 
ceived ; they imagine they can pierce through 
all the involutioPiS of intrigue without the dili- 
gence necessary to weaker minds, and there- 
fore sit idle and secure. They believe that 
none can hope to deceive them, and therefore 
that none will try. — Memoirs of the King of 
Prussia^ p. 122. 

COMMERCE. 

Commerce, however we may please ourselves 
with the contrary opinion, is one of the daugh- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 95 

ters of fortune, inconstant and deceitful as her 
mother. She chooses her residence where she 
is least expected, and shifts her abode when 
her continuance is, in appearance, most firmly 
settled. — Universal J^isiter^p. 112. 



COMPLAISANCE. 

There are many arts of graciousness and con- 
ciliation which are to be practised without ex- 
pense, and by which those may be made our 
friends, who have never received from us any 
real benefit.— Such arts, when they include 
neither guilt nor meanness, it is surely reason- 
able to learn ; for who would want that love 
which is so easily to be gained } — Rambler^ v. 
2, p. 16. 

'I'lere are, indeed, in every place, some par- 
ticular modes of the ceremonial part of good 
breeding, which being arbitrary and accidental, 
can be learned only by habitude and conversa- 
tion. — Such are the forms of salutation, the 
different gradations of reverence, and all the ad- 
justments of place and precedence. — These 
however may be often violated without offence, 
if it be sufficiently evident that neither malice 



96 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

nor pride contributed to the failure, but will not 
atone, however rigidly observed, for the tumour 
of insolence, or petulance of contempt. — Ibid, 
p. 262. 

The universal axiom in which all complai- 
sance is included, and from which flow all the 
formalities which custom has established in civ- 
ilized nations, is, — •' That no man should give 
any preference to himself," — a rule so compre- 
hensive and certain, that perhaps it is not easy 
for the mind to imagine an incivility without 
supposing it to be broken. — Ibid, p. 262. 

Wisdom and virtue are by. no means suffici- 
ent, with the supplemental laws of good breed- 
ing, to secure freedom from degenerating into 
rudeness, or self-esteem from swelling into in- 
solence. A thousand incivilities may be com- 
mitted, and a thousand offices neglected,' w^ith- 
out any remorse of conscience, or reproach 
from reason. — Ibid, p. 261. 

If we would have the kindness of others, we 
must endure their follies. He who cannot per- 
suade himself to withdraw from society, must be 
content to pay a tribute of his time to a multi- 
tude of tyrants. To the loiterer, who makes 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 97 

appointments wliich he never keeps — to the 
consulter, who asks advice which he never 
takes — to the boaster, who blusters only to be 
praised — to the coinplainer, who whines only to 
be piti^iid — to the projector, whose happi- 
ness is to entertain his friends with expectations, 
which all but himself know to be vain — to the 
economist, who tells of bargains and settle- 
ments — to the politician, who predicts the fate 
of battles and breach of alliances— to the usurer, 
who compares the different funds ; and to the 
talker, who talks only because he loves to be 
talking. — Idler ^ v. 1, p. 80. 

SELF-COMPLACENCY. 
He that is pleased with himself, easily imag- 
ines he shall please others. — Life of Pope. 



CHARITY. 
Charity would lose its name were it influ- 
enced by so mean a motive as human praise. — 
Introduction to the Proceedings of the Commit- 
tee for clothing French Prisoner s ^ p. 158. 

To do the best can seldom be the lot of man ; 
it is sufficient if, when opportunities are present- 
ed, he is ready to do good. How little virtue 
9 



98 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

could be prasticed if beneficence were to wait 
always for the most proper objeclS; and the 
noblest occasions? — occasions that may never 
happen, and objects that may never be found ! — 
Ibid, p. 159. 

That charity is best of which the conse- 
quences are most extensive. — Ibid, 

Of charity it is superfluous to observe, that 
it could have no place if there were no want ; 
for of a virtue which could not be practised, the 
omission could not be culpable. Evil is not 
onlv the occasional, but the efBcient cause of 
charity. We are incited to the relief of misery, 
by the consciousness that we have the same 
nature with the sufferer ; that we are in danger 
of the same distresses ; and may sometimes im- 
plore the same assistance. — Mhr, v. 2, p. 209. 



CHARITY TO CAPTIVES. 

The relief of enemies has a tendency to 
unite mankind in fraternal affection, to soften 
the acrimony of adverse nations, and dispose 
them to peace and amity. In the mean time 
it alleviates captivity, and lakes away something 
from the miseries of war. The rage of war, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 99 

however mitigated, will always fill the world 
with calamity and horror. Let it not then be 
unnecessarily extended. Let animosity and 
hostility cease together, and no man be longer 
deemed an enemy than while his sword is drawn 
against us. — Introduction to the Proceedings'^ of 
the Committee for clothing French Prisoners^ 
p. 159. 

CENSURE. 

Censure is willingly indulged, because it 
always implies some superiority. Men please 
themselves with imagining that they have made 
a deeper search, or wider survey than others, 
and detected faults and follies which escape 
vulgar observation. — Rambler, v. 1, p. 7. 

Those who raise envy will easily incur 
censure. — Idler, v. 1, p. 78. 

CUSTOM. 

Custom is commonly too strong for the most 
resolute resolver, though furnished for the assault 
with all the weapons of philosophy. " He that 
endeavours to free him.self from an ill habit, 
(says Bacon) must not change too much at a 
time, lest he should be discouraged by difficulty; 



100 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

nor too little, for then he will make but slow 
advances." — Idler ^ v. 1, p. 152. 

Established custom is not easily broken, till 
some great event shakes the whole system of 
things, and life seems to recommence upon new 
principles. — Western Islandsyip. 18. 

To advise a man unaccustomed to the eyes 
of the multitude, to mount a tribunal without 
perturbation ; — to tell him, whose life has passed 
in the shades of contemplation, that he must not 
be disconcerted or perplexed in receiving and 
returning the compliments of a splendid assem- 
bly, is to advise an inhabitant of Brazil or 
Sumatra not to shiver at an English winter, or 
him who has always lived upon a plain, to look 
from a precipice without emotion. — It is to 
suppose custom instantaneously controllable by 
reason, and to endeavour to communicate by 
precept, that which only time and habit can 
bestows — Bambler, v. 3, p. 317. 



CHEATS. 

Cheats can seldom stand long against laugh- 
ter. — Life of Butler, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 101 

CHARACTER, 

In cities, and yet more in courts, the minute 
discriminations of characters, which distinguish 
one man from another, are for the most part, 
effaced. — The peculiarities of temper and opin- 
ion are gradually worn away by promiscuous 
converse, as angular bodies and uneven surfaces 
lose their points and asperities, by frequent 
attrition against one another, and approach by 
degrees to uniform rotundity. — Rambler^ vol. 
3,p 192. 

The opinions of every man must be learned 
from himself. Concerning his practice it is 
safest to trust the evidence of others. Where 
those testimonies concur, no higher degree of 
certainty can be obtained of his character. — 
Life of Sir Thomas Browne, p. 286. 

To get a name can happen but to few. — A 
name, even in the most commercial nation, is 
one of the few things which cannot be bought — 
it is the free gift of mankind, which must be 
deserved before it will be granted, and is at last 
unwillingly bestowed. — Idler, v. 1, p. 66. 

The exhibition of character is the first re- 
quisite in dramatic fable. — Visiter, p. 118. 
9* 



102 3IAXIMS or JOHNSON. 

CHANCE. 

There are few minds sufBciently firm to be 
trusted in the hands of chance. Whoever finds 
himself to anticipate futurity, and exalt pos- 
sibility to certainty, should avoid every kind of 
casual adventure, since his grief must be always 
proportionate to his hope. — Rambler^ v. 4, p. 
118. 

The most timorous prudence will not always 
exempt a man from the dominion of chance ; a 
subtile and insidious power, who will sometimes 
intrude upon the greatest privacy, and embar- 
rass the strictest caution. — Ibid^ p. 132. 

Whatever is left in the hands of chance must 
be subject to vicissitude, and when any establish- 
ment is found to be useful, it ought to be the 
next care to make it permanent. — Id'er^ v. 1, 
P- 21. 

CALAMITY. 

The state of the mind oppressed with a sud- 
den calamity is like that of the fabulous inhabi- 
tants of the new created earth, who, when the 
first night came upon them, supposed that day 
would never return. — lbid,ip. 211. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 103 

COMPLAINT. 
What cannot be repaired is not to be re- 
gretted. — Prince of Abyssinia^ p. 29. 

CARE. 
Care will sometimes betray to the appearance 
of negligence. He that is catching opportuni- 
ties which seldom occur, will suffer those to 
pass by unregarded which he expects hourly to 
return ; and he that is searching for remote 
thinsjs w^ill nedect those that are obvious. — 
Preface to Dictionary, 

CHOICE. 
The causes of good and evil are so various 
and uncertain, so often entangled with each 
other, so diversified by various relations, and 
so much subject to accidents which cannot be 
foreseen, that he who would fix his condition 
upon incontestible reasons of preference, must 
live and die enquiring and deliberating. — 
Prince of Abyssinia^ p. 109. 



CLEANLINESS. 
There is a kind of anxious cleanliness, which 
is always the chai-acteristic of a slattern ; it is 



104 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

the superfluous scrupulosity of guilt, dreading 
discovery and shunning suspicion. — It is the 
violence of an effort against habit, which, being 
impelled by external motives, cannot stop at 
the middle point. — Rambler^ v. 3, p. 58. 

CHANGE. 
All change is of itself an evil, which ought 
not to be hazarded but for evident advantage. — 
Plan of an English Dictionary^ p. 37. 

^CONSCIENCE. 

Tranquillity and guilt, disjoin'd by Keav'n, 
Still stretch in vain their longing' arms afar, 
Nor dare to pass th' insuperable bound. — Irene^ p. 43. 

CAPTIVITY. 

The man whose miscarriage in a just cause 
has put him in the power of his enemy, may, 
without any violation of his integrity, regain his 
liberty or preserve his life, by a promise of neu- 
trality ; for the stipulation gives the enemy 
nothing which he had not before. The neutrality 
of a captive may be always secured by his im- 
prisonment or death. He that is at the disposal 
of another, may not promise to aid him in any 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 105 

injurious act, because no power can compel 
active obedience. He may engage to do no- 
thing, but not to do ill. — Life of Cowley. 

COMPETENCY. 
A competency ought to secure a man from 
poverty ; or, if he wastes it, make him ashamed 
of publishing his necessities. — Life of Dryden. 

CIVILITY. 
The civilities of the great are never thrown 
away. — Memoirs of the K. of Prussia, p. 107. 

CONTENT. 

The foundation of content must spring up in 
a man's own mind ; and he who has so little 
knowledge of human nature as to seek happiness 
by changing any thing but his own disposition, 
will w^as'e his life in fruitless efforts, and multi- 
ply the griefs which he purposes to remove. — 
Rambler, v. 1, p. 35. 

CONSOLATION. 

No one ought to remind another of misfor- 
tunes of which ths sufferer does not complain, 
and which there are no means proposed of 



106 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

alleviating. We have no right to excite thoughts 
which necessarily give pain, whenever they re- 
turn, and which perhaps might not have revived 
but by absurd and unseasonable compassion. — 
Ibid, V. 2, p. 122. 

Nothino; is more offensive to a~mind con- 

O Vis 

vinced that its distress is without a remedy, and 
preparing to submit quietly to irresistible ca- 
lamity, than those petty and conjectured com- 
forts which unskilful officiousness thinks it virtue 
to administer. — -JVotes upon Shakspeare, v. 5, 
p. 197. 

CONTEMPT. 

Contempt is a kind of gangrene, which if it 
seizes one part of a character, corrupts all the 
rest by degrees. — Life of Blackmore. 

CURIOSITY. 
Curiosity, like all other desires, produces 
pain as well as pleasure. — Rambler, v. 4, p. 3. 

CRITICISM. 

The eye of the intellect, hke that of the body, 
is not equally perfect in all, nor equally adapted 
in any to all objects. The end of criticism is 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 107 

to supply its defects. Rules are the instru- 
ments of mental vision, which may indeed assist 
our faculties when properly used, but produce 
confusion and obscurity by unskilful application. 
—Ibid, p. 91. 

In criticism, as in every other art, we fail 
sometimes by our weakness, but more frequent- 
ly by our fault. We are sometimes bewildered 
by ignorance, and sometimes by prejudice, but 
we seldom deviate far from the right but when 
we deliver ourselves up to the direction of van- 
ity.— 76^VZ, p. 92. 

Whatever is much read will be much criti- 
cised. Life of Sir T. Browne, p. 257. 

He who is taught by a critic to dislike that 
w^hich pleased him in his natural state, has the 
same reason to complain of his instructor, as the 
madman to rail at his doctor, who, when he 
thought himself master of Peru, physicked him 
to poverty. — Idler, v. 1, p. 16. 

An account of the labours and productions of 
the learned was for a lon2: time anions: the de- 
ficiencies of English literature ; but as the ca- 
price of man is always starling from too little to 



108 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

too much, we have now, among other disturbers 
of human quiet, a numerous body of reviewers 
and remarhei^s, — Preliminary Discourse to the 
London Chronicle, p. 156. 

No genius was ever blasted by the breath 
of critics; the poison, which ii confined, would 
have burst the heart, fumes away io empty 
hisses, and malice is set at ease with very little 
danger to merit. — Id'er, v. 2, p. 40. 

The critic will be led but a little way towards 
the just estimation of the sublime beauties in 
works of genius, who judges merely by rules ; 
for whatever part of an art that can be execu- 
ted, or criticised thus, that part is no longer the 
work of genius, which implies excellence out of 
the reach of rules. — Ibid, p. 130. 

That reading may generally be suspected to 
be right, which requires many words to prove 
it wrong ; and the emen lation wrong, which 
cannot, without so much labour, appear to be 
right. — Preface to Shakspeare, p, 66. 

Every man acquainted with critical emenda- 
tions, must see how much easier they are de- 
stroyed than made, and how willingly every 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 109 

man would be changing the text, if his imagin- 
ation would furnish alterations. — JYotes upon 
Shakspeare, v. 1, p. 20. 

When there are two ways of setting a passage 
in an author right, it gives reason to suspect that 
there may be a third way better than either. 
—Ibid, V. 2, p. 381. 

In the chasms of old writings which cannot 
be filled up with authority — atteniipting to 
restore the words is impossible; all that can be 
done without copies, is to note the fault. — 
Ibid, p. 387. 

The coinage of new words in emendatory 
criticism is a violent remedy not to be used but 
in the last necessity. — Ibid, v. 3, p. 40. 

There is no reason for critics to persecute 
their predecessors with such implacable anger 
as they sometimes do. The dead it is true can 
make no resistance, they may be attacked with 
great securhy, but since they can neither feel, 
nor mend, the safety of mauling them seems 
greater than the pleasure. Nor, perhaps, would 
it much misbeseem them to remember, that 
amidst all our triumphs over the nonsensical and 
10 



110 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

the senseless^ that we likewise are men, and, as 
Swift observed to Burnet, '' shall soon be among 
the dead ourselves." — Ibid^ v. 10, p. 293. 

CONVICT. 

Imprisonment is afflictive, and ignominious 
death is fearful ; but let the convict compare his 
condition' with that which his actions might 
reasonably have incurred. The robber might 
have died in the act of violence by lawful 
resistance. The man of fraud might have sunk 
into the grave, whilst he was enjoying the gain 
of his artifice, and where then had been their 
hope ? By imprisonment, even with the certainty 
of death before their eyes, they have leisure for 
thought ; opportunities for instruction ; and what- 
ever they suffer from offended laws, they may 
yet reconcile themselves to God, who, if he is 
sincerely sought for, will most assuredly be 
found. — Convicfs Address,"^ p. 12. 

COMPILATION. 

Particles of science are often very widely 
scattered — Writers of extensive comprehension 

* Generally attributed to the late Dr. Dodd, but 
written for him, whilst under sentence of death, by 
Dr. Johnson. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. Ill 

have incidental remarks upon topics very remote 
from the principal subject, which are often more 
valuable than formal treatises, and which yet 
are not known because they are not promised in 
the title. He that collects those under proper 
heads, is very laudably employed, for though 
he exerts no great abilities in the work, he fa- 
cilitates the progress of others, and by making 
that easy of attainment which is already written, 
may give some mind, more vigorous, or more 
adventurous than his own, leisure for new 
thoughts and original designs. — Idkr^ p. 185. 

CHILDREN. 
It cannot be hoped that out of any progeny, 
more than one shall deserve to be mentioned. — 
Life of Roger Ascham, p. 235. 

CREDULITY. 
We are inclined to believe those whom w^e 
do not know, because they never have deceived 
us. — Idler, v. 2, p. 157. 



COURT. 
It has been always observed of those that 
frequent a court, that they soon, by a kind of 



112 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

contagion, catch the regal spirit of neglecting 
futurity. The minister forms an expedient to 
suspend, or perplex an enquiry into his measures 
for a few months, and applauds and triumphs 
in his own dexterity. The Peer puts off his 
creditor, for the present day, and forgets that 
he is ever to see him more. — Marmor JYorfoI" 
dense, p. 20. 

CUNNING. 
Cunning differs from wisdom as twilight from 
open day. He that walks in the sunshine, goes 
boldly forward by the nearest way ; he sees 
that when the path is strait and even, he may 
proceed in security, and when it is rough and 
crooked, he easily complies with the turns, and 
avoids the obstructions. But the traveller in 
the dusk, fears more as he sees less ; he knows 
there may be danger, and therefore suspects 
that he is never safe, tries every step before he 
fixes his foot, and shrinks at every noise, lest 
violence should approach him. Cunning dis- 
covers little at a time, and has no other means 
of certainty than multiplication of stratagems, 
and superfluity of suspicion. Yet men, thus 
narrow by nature and mean by art, are some- 
times able to rise by the miscarriages of bravery. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 113 

and the openness of integrity ; and by watching 
failures and snatching opportunities, obtain ad- 
vantages wliich belong properly to higher char- 
acters.— Mer, V. 2. p. 223. 227. 

COMPANION. 
There is no man more dangerous than he 
that with a will to corrupt, hath the power to 
please ; for neither wit nor honesty ought to 
think themselves safe with such a companion, 
when they frequently see the best minds cor- 
rupted by them. — JVotes upon Shakspeare, v. 
5, p. 612. 

COURAGE. 

The courage of the English vulgar proceeds 
from that dissolution of dependence, which 
obliges every man to regard his own character. 
While every man is fed by his own hand, he 
has no need of any servile arts ; he may always 
have wages for his labour, and is no less neces- 
sary for his employer, than his employer is to 
him ; while he locks for no protection from 
others, he is naturally roused to be his own pro- 
tector, and having nothing to abate his esteem 
of himself, he consequently aspires to the es- 
10* 



114 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

teem of others. Thus every man that crowds 
our streets is a man of honour, disdainful of ob- 
ligation, impatient of reprcach, and desirous of 
extending his reputation among those of his 
own rank ; and as courage is in most frequent 
use, the fame of courage is most eagerly pursu- 
ed. From this neglect of subordination, it is 
not to be denied that some inconveniences may, 
from time to time, proceed. The power of the 
law does not always sufficiently supply the want 
of reverence, or maintain the proper distinction 
between different ranks; but good and evil will 
grow up in this world together ; and they who 
complain in peace, of the insolence of the popu- 
lace, must remember, that their insolence in 
peace, is bravery in war Bravery of Eng- 
lish Common Soldiers, p. 329. 

CRIMES. 

The crime which has been once committed, 
is committed Tigain with less reluctance. — 
JVotes upon Shakspeare. 

CONFIDENCE. 
Men overpowered with distress eagerly listen 
to the first offers of relief, close with every 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 115 

scheme, and believe every promise. He that 
has no longer any confidence in himself, is glad 
to repose his trust in any other that w.ll under- 
take to guide him. — Ibid, p. 340. 

COPIES COMPARED WITH OPJGINALS. 

Copies are known from originals even when 
the painter copies his own picture ; so if an 
author should literally translate his he would 
lose the manner of an original. But though 
copies are easily known, good imitations are 
not detected w^ith equal certainty, and are by 
the best judges otlen mistaken. Nor is it true 
that the writer has always peculiarities equally 
distinguishable with those of the painter. The 
peculiar manner of each arises from the desire 
natural to every performer of facilitating his 
subsequent works by recurrence to his former 
ideas; this recurrence produces that repetition 
which is called habit. The painter, whose 
work is partly intellectual, and partly manual, 
has habits of the mind, the eye, and the hand 
— The writer has only habits of the mind. Yet 
some painters have differed as much from them- 
selves as from any other ; and it is said there 
is little resemblance betw^een the first w^orks of 
Raphael and the last- 



116 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

The same variation may be expected in 
writers, and if it be true, as it seems, that they 
are less subject to habit, the difference between 
their works may be yet greater. — Ibid^ v. 1, p. 
133. 

COMPLIMENT. 

No rank in life precludes the efficacy of a 
well-timed compliment. When Queen Eliza- 
beth asked an Ambassador how he liked her 
ladies, he replied, '' It was hard to judge of 
stars in the presence of the sun."— /6id, p. 484. 

Compliment is, as Armado well expresses it, 
— the varnish of a complete man — Ibid, v. 2, 
p. 385. 



DESIRE. 
Some desire is necessary to keep life in mo- 
tion ; and he whose real wants are supplied, 
must admit those of fancy. — Prince of Abys- 
sinia, p. 52. 

The desires of man increase with his acquisi- 
tions, — every step which he advances brings 
something within his view, which he did not see 
before, and which, as soon as he sees it, he be^ 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 117 

gins to want. Where necessity ends, curiosity- 
begins ; and no sooner are we supplied with 
every thing that nature can demand, than we 
sit down to contrive artificial appetites. — Idler ^ 
V. 1, p. 165. 



DEATH, 
To neglect at any time preparation for 
death, is to sleep on our post at a siege ; but to 
omit it in old age, is to sleep at an attack.- — 
Mambxr, p, 14L 

Reflect that life and death, affecting sounds! 
Are only varied modes of endless being". 
Reflect that life, like ev'ry other blessing, 
Derives its valae from its use alone, 
Not for itself—but for a nobler end : 
Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue. 
When inconsistent with a greater good, 
Reason commands to cast the less away. 
Thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserv^'d. 
And virtue cheaply sav'd with loss of life. 

lime, p. 41. 

It was perhaps ordained by Providence, to 
hinder us from tyrannizing over one another, 
that no individual should be of such importance, 
as to cause by his retirement or death any 
chasm in the world. — Ramble?^, v. 1, p. 34. 



118 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

The great disturbers of ourJiappiness in tins 
world, are our desires, our griefs, and our fears } 
and to all these the consider ation of morality 
is a certain and adequate remedy. '' Think 
(says Epictetus) frequently on poverty, banish- 
ment, and death, and thou wilt never indulge 
violent desires, or give up thy heart to mean 
:>entiments." — Ibid^ p. 101. 

It is remarkable that death increases our 
/eneration for the good, and extenutes our 
hatred of the bad. — Ibid^ v. 2, p. 5. 

To die is the fate of man ; but to die with 
lingering anguish, is generally his folly. — Ihid^ 

p. 178. 

To rejoice in tortures is the privilege of a 
martyr, — to meet death with intrepidity is the 
right only of innocence (if in any human being 
innocence can be found) ; but of him whose 
life is shortened by his crimes, the last duties 
are humility and self-abasement. — Convicfs 
Address, p. 18. 

Death is no more than every being must suf- 
fer, though the dread of it is peculiar to man. — 
JVotes upon Shakspeare, v. 2, p. 79. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 119 

The death of great men is not always pro- 
portioned to their lives. Hannibal, says Juvenal, 
did not perish by a javeliiT, or a sword ; the 
slaughters of Cannae were revenged by a ring. 
— lAfe of Pojpe, 



DEPENDENCE. 

There is no state more contrary to the dig- 
nity of wisdom, than perpetual and unlimited 
dependence, in which the understanding lies 
useless, and every motion is received from ex- 
ternal impulse. Reason is the great distinction 
of human nature, the faculty by which we ap- 
proach to same degree of association with celes- 
tial intelligences ; but as the excellence of every 
power appears only in its operations, not to have 
reason, and to have it useless and unemployed, 
is nearly the same, — Ramb-er, v. 4, p. 12. 

Wherever there is wealth, there will be de- 
pendence, and expectation ; and wherever there 
is dependence, there will be an emulation of 
servility. — luid, p. 158. 

If it be unhappy to have one patron, what is 
his misery who has many ? — Ibid, v. 1, p. 161. 



120 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

DIFFIDENCE. 
The pain of miscarriage is naturally pro- 
portionate to the desire of excellence ; and 
therefore till men are hardened by long familiari- 
ty with reproach, or have attained , by frequent 
struggles, the art of suppressing their emotions, 
diffidence is found the insuperable associate of 
understanding. — Rambler^ v. 4, p. 1S6. 

DELICACY. 
He that too much refines his delicacy, will 
always endanger his quiet. — Ihid^ p. 221. 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 

We do not so often disappoint others, as our 
selves, as we not only think more highly than 
others of our own ab.lities, but allow ourselves 
to form hopes which we never communicate, 
and please our thoughts with employments which 
none ever will allot us, and with elevations to 
which we are never expected ti>ri3e. — Idler ^ v. 
2, p. 203. 

DISEASE. 
It may be said that disease generally begins 
that equality which death completes. The dis- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 121 

tinctions which set one man so much above 
another, are very h'ttle perceived in the gloom 
of a sick chamber, where it will be vain to ex- 
pect entertainment from the gay, or instruction 
from the wise, where oil human glory is obliter- 
ated — the wit is clouded, the reasoner per- 
plexed, and the hero subdued ; where the 
highest and brightest of mortal beings, finds 
nothing left him but the consciousness of inno- 
cence. — Rambler^ v. 1, p. 290. 

DELAY. 

The folly of allowing ourselves to delay w^hat 
we know cannot be finally escaped, is one of 
the general weaknesses, which, in spite of the 
instruction of moralists, and the remonstrances 
of reason, prevail to a greater or less degree in 
every mind. Even they who most steadily with- 
stand it, find it, if not the most violent, the most 
pertinacious of their passions, always renewing 
its attacks, and, though often vanquished, never 
destroyed. — Ramhler^ v. 3, p. 170. 

.The certainty that life cannot be long, and 
the probability that it will be much shorter than 
11 



122 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON," 

nature allows, ought to awaken every man to 
the active prosecution of whatever he is desirous 
to perform. It is true, that no diligence can 
ascertain success ; Death may intercept the 
swiftest career ^ but he who is cut off in the 
execution of an honest undertaking, has at least 
the honour of falling in his rank, and has fought 
the battle, though he missed the victory. — Ibid, 
p. 173. 

Timorous thoughts and cautious disquisitions 
are the dull attendants of dehy . — JYotes ujjon 
Shakspeare, v. 6, p. 116, 

DISTRUST. 

It is impossible to see the long scrolls m 
which every contract is included, with all their 
appendages of seals and attestation, without 
wondering at the depravity of those beings who 
must be restrained from violation of promise by 
such formal and public evidences, and pre- 
cluded from equivocation and subterfuge by 
such punctilious minuteness. Among ail the 
satires to which folly and wickedness have given 
occasion, none is equally severe with a bond, 
or a settlement.— jRami'er, V. 3, p. 155. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSOX. 123 

DECEPTION. 

Deceit and falsehood, whatever convenien- 
cies they may for a lime promise or produce, 
sre in the sum of life obstacles to -happiness. 
Those who profit by the cheat distrust the de- 
ceiver, and the act, by which kindness was 
sought, puts an end to -confidence. — -JVotes upon 
Shakspeare. 

SELF-DECEPTION. 
There is an art of sophistry by which men 
faave deluded their own consciences, by per- 
suading themselves, that what w^ouid be crimi- 
nal in others, is virtuous in them ; as if the ob- 
ligations which are laid upon us by a higher 
power, can be over-ruled by obligations w^hich 
we lay upon ourselves. — Ibid, v. 4, p. 487. 



DEVOTION. 
Some men's minds are so divided between 
heaven and earth, that they pray for the pros- 
perity of guilt, while they deprecate its punish- 
ment. — Ibid, V 5, p. 579. 

Poetical devotion cannot often please. The 
doctrines of religion may, indeed, be defended 
in a didactic poem ; and he who has the power 



124 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 

of arguing in verse, will not lose it because bis 
subject is sacred. A poet may describe the 
beauty and grandeur of nature, the flowers of 
the springj and the harvests of autumn, the vi- 
cissitudes of the tide, and the revolutions of the 
sky, and praise the Maker for his works in 
lines which no reader shall lay aside. The 
subject of the disputation is not piety, but the 
motives to piety ; that of the description is not 
God, but the works of God. 

Contemplative piety, or the intercourse be- 
tween God and the human soul, cannot be po- 
etical. Man, admitted to implore the mercy 
of his Creator, and plead the merits of his Re« 
deemer, is already in a higher state than poe- 
try can confer. 

The essence of poetry is invention ; such in- 
vention as, by producing something unexpected^ 
surprizes and delights. The topics of devotion 
are few, and being few, are universally known; 
but few as they are, they can be made no more ^ 
they can receive no grace from novelty of senti- 
ment, and very little from novelty of expression. 

Poetry pleases by exhibiting an idea more 
grateful to the mind than the things themselves 
afford. This effect proceeds from the display 
of those parts of nature which attract, and thoi 



MAXIMS aF JO:iNSON. 125 

concealment of those wLich repel the imagina- 
tion : but religion must b^, shewn as it is; sup- 
pression and addition equally corrupt it; and 
such as it is, it is known already : from poetry 
the reader justly expects, and from good poetry 
always obtains, the::eiilargement of his com- 
prehension, and elevation of his fancy ; but this 
is rarely to be hoped by Christians from me- 
trical devotion. Whatever is great, desirable, 
or tremendous, is comprised ia the name of the 
Supreme Being. Omnipotence cannot be ex- 
alted ; infinity cannot be amplified ; perfection 
cannot be improved. 

The ^employments of pious meditation are 
faith, thanksgiving, repentance, and supplication. 
Faith, invariably uniform, cannot be invested 
by fancy with decorations. Thanksgiving, the 
most joyful of all holy effusions, yet addressed 
to a being without passions, is confined to a few 
modes, and is to be felt rather than expressed. 
Repentance, trembling in the presence of the 
judge, is not at leisure for cadence and epithets. 
Supplication of man to man may diffjse itself 
throu2;h many topics of persuasion ; but suppli- 
tion to God can only cry for mercy. 

Of sentiments purely religious, it will be found 
that the most simple expression is the most 
11^ 



126 MAXIMS OF JOHNgON', 

sublime. Poetry loses its lustre and its power^ 
because it is applied to the decoration of some- 
thing more excellent than itself. All that 
verse can do is to help the memory, and delight 
the ear, and for these purposes it may be very 
useful; but it supplies nothing to the mind. 
The ideas of Christian theology are too simple 
for eloquence, too sacred for fiction, and too 
majestic for ornament ; to recommend them by 
tropes and figures, is to magnify by a con- 
cave mirror the sidereal hemisphere.— iife of 
Waller, 

DUTY. 
When we act according to our duty, we com- 
mit the event to him by whose laws our actions 
are governed, and who will suffer none to be 
finally puni^^hed for obedience. But when, in 
prospect of some good, whether natural, or 
moral, we break the rules prescribed to us, we 
withdraw from the direction of superior wisdom, 
and take all consequences upon ourselves. — 
Prince of Abyssinia, p. 203. 

DILIGENCE. 
Diligence in employments of less consequence 
is the most successful introduction to greater 
enterprizes. — Life of Drake^ p. 160. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 127 

ENVY. 
He that knows himself despised, will always 
be envious ; and still more envious and malevo- 
lent, if he is condemned to live in the presence 
of those who despise him. — Prince of Myssi- 
nia, p. 86. 

To see the highest minds levelled with the 
meanest, may produce some solace to the con- 
sciousness of weakness, and some mortification 
to the pride of wisdom ; but let it be re- 
membered, that minds are not levelled in 
their powers, but when they are first levelled in 
their desires. — Life of Oryden, 

It is not only, to many, more pleasing to recol- 
lect those faults which place others below them, 
than those virtues by which they are themselves 
comparatively depressed, but it is likewise more 
easy to neglect than to recompence ; and though 
there are few who will practise a laborious 
virtue, there never will be wanting multitudes 
that will indulge in easy vice. — Life of Savage. 

The great law of mutual benevolence is, 
perhaps, oftener violated by envy than by inter- 
est. Interest can difliise itself but to a narrow 
compass. Interest requires some qualities not 



128 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON* 

universally bestowed. Interest is seldom pur- 
sued but at some hazard ;— but to spread sus- 
picion, — to invent calumnies, — ^to propagate 
scandal, requires neither talents, nor labour, nor 
courage. — Rambler, v. 4, p. 125, 126. 



EXAMPLE. 

Every art is best taught by example. Nothing 
contributes more to the cultivation of propriety, 
than remarks on the works of those who have 
most excelled. — Dissertation upon the Epi- 
taphs of Pope, p. 302. 

Every man, in w^hatever station, has, or en- 
deavours to have, his followers, admirers, and 
imitators ; and has therefore the influence of 
his example to watch with care ; he ought to 
avoid not only crimes, but the appearance of 
crimes, and not only to practise virtue, but to 
applaud, countenance, and support it ; for it is 
possible, for want of attention, we may teach 
others faults from which ourselves are free, or, 
by a cowardly desertion of a cause, which we 
ourselves approve, may pervert those who fix 
their eyes upon us, and having no rule of their 
own to guide their course, are easily misled by 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 129 

the aberrations of that example which they chuse 
for their direction. — Rambler^ v. 2, p. 95. 



EMULATION. 

Where there is emulation, there will be vani- 
ty ; and where there is vanity, there will be 
folly. — Life of Shenstone, 

Every man ought to endeavor at eminence, 
not by pulling others down, but by raising him- 
self, and enjoy the pleasure of his own superi- 
ority, whether imaginary or real, without inter- 
rupting others in the same felicity. The 
philosopher may very justly be delighted with 
the extent of his views, and the artificer with 
the readiness of his hands ; but let the one re- 
member, that without mechanical performances, 
refined speculation is an empty dream ; and the 
other, that without theoretical reasoning, dexter- 
ity is little more than a brute instinct. — Ram- 
hler, V. 1, p. 52. 

EDUCATION. 
The knowledge of external nature, and of 
the sciences which that knowledge requires, or 
includes, is not the great, or the frequent busi- 



130 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

ness of the human mind. Whether we provide 
for action, or conversation ; whether we wish to 
be useful, or pleasing ; the first requisite is the 
religious and moral knowledge of right and 
wTong. The next is an acquaintance with the 
history of mankind, and with those examples 
which may be said to embody truth, and prove 
by events the reasonableness of opinions. ' Pru- 
dence and'justice are virtues and excellencies of 
all times, and all places. We are perpetually 
moralists, but we are geometricians by chance. 
Our intercourse w^ith intellectual nature is 
necessary ; our speculations upon matter are 
voluntary, and at leisure. — Life of Milton. 

Physical knowledge is of such rare emer- 
gence, that one man may know another half his 
life without being able o estimate his skill in 
hydrostatics, or astronomy ; but his moral and 
prudential character immediately appears. — 
Those authors, therefore, are to be read at 
school, that supply most axioms of prudence, 
most principles of moral truth, and most materi- 
als for conversation ; and these purposes are 
best served by poets, orators, and historians.-— 
Ibid. 



MAXIMS or JOHNSON. 131 

Tt ought always to be steadily inculcated, that 
virtue is the highest proof of understanding, and 
the only solid basis of gieatness ; and that vice 
is the natural consequence of narrow thoughts ; 
that it begins in mistake, and ends in ignominy. 
— Rambler^ v. 1, p. 24. 

The general rule of consulting the genius for 
particular offices in life is of little use, unless 
we are told how the genius can be known. If 
it is to be discovered only by experiment, life 
will be lost before the resolution can be fixed ; 
if any other indications are to be found, they 
may perhaps be very easily discerned. At 
least, if to miscarry in an attempt be a proof of 
having mistaken the direction of the genius, 
men appear not less frequently deceived with 
regard to themselves, than to others ] and 
therefore no one has much reason to complain 
that his life was planned out by his friends, or to 
be confident that he should have had either 
more honor or happiness by being abandoned 
to the chance of his own fancy. — Ibid^ p. 120. 

EMPLOYMENT. 
Employment is the great instrument of Intel- 
lectual dominion. The mind cannot retire 



132 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

from its enemy into total vacancy, or turn aside 
from one object, but by passing to another. 
The gloomy and the resentful are always found 
among those who have nothing to do, or who 
do nothing. We must be busy about good, or 
evil, and he to whom the present offers nothing, 
will often be looking backward on the past. — 
Idler, V. 3, p. 113. 

EVIL. 
No evil is insupportable, but that which is 
accompanied with consciousness of wrong.— 
Prince of Abyssinia, p. 206. 

Estimable and useful qualities, joined with an 
evil disposition, give that evil disposition power 
over others, who, by admiring the virtue, are 
betrayed to the malevolence. The Tatler, men- 
tioning the sharpers of his time, observes, " that 
some of them are men of such elegance and 
knowledge, that a young man, who falls in their 
way, is betrayed as much by his judgment as 
his passions. — JYotes upon Shakspeare, v. 4, 
p. 7. 

It is the nature of man to imagine no evil so 
great, as that which is near h\m.~lbid, v. 
5, p. 86. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 133 

EMPIRE. 
Extended empire, like expanded gold, ex- 
changes solid strength for feeble splendour. — 
Irene, p. 16. 

EXCELLENCE. 
Those who attain any excellence, commonly 
spend life in one pursuit ; for excellence is not 
often gained upon easier terms. — Life of Pope, 

ENQUIRY. 
In the zeal of enquiry we do not always re- 
flect on the silent encroachments of time, or 
remember that no man is in more danger of 
doing little, than he who flatters himself with 
abilities to do all. — Treatise on the Longitude j 
p. 14. 

EQUANIMITY. 

Evil is uncertain, in the same degree, as 
good ; and for the reason we ought not to hope 
too securely, we ought not to fear with too 
much dejection. The state of the world is 
continually changing, and none can tell the result 
of the next vicissitude. Whatever is afloat in 
the stream of time may, when it is very near 
12 



134 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

US, be driven away by an ac^ide ntal blastjwhich 
shall happen to cross the general course of the 
current. The sudden accidents by which the 
powerful are depressed, may fall upon those 
whose malice we fear; and the greatness by which 
we expect to be overborne, may become another 
proof of the false flatteries of fortune. Our 
enemies may become weak, or we grow strong, 
before our encounter ; or we may advance 
against each other without ever meeting. There 
are indeed natural evils, which we can flatter 
ourselves with no hopes of escaping, and with 
little of delaying ; but of the ills which are appre- 
hended from human malignity, or the opposition 
of rival interests, we may always alleviate the 
terror, by considering that our persecutors are 
weak^ ignorant, and mortal, like ourselves.- — 
Rambler^ v. 1, p. 178. 



EPITAPH. 

To define an epitaph is useless ; every one 
knows it is an inscription on a tomb ; an epitaph 
therefore implies no particular character of writ- 
ing, but may be composed in verse or prose. 
It is, indeed, commonly panegyrical, because 
we are seldom distinguished with a stone, but 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 135 

by our friends ; but it bas no rule to restrain, 
or niodify it, except tbis, tbat it ougbt not to be 
longer tban common bebolders may be expect- 
ed to bave leisure and patience to peruse. — 
Dissertation on the Epitaphs of Pope, p. 303. 

Tbe name of tbe deceased sbould never be 
omitted in an epitaph, whose end is to convey 
some account of tbe dead ; and to what purpose 
is any thing told of him whose name is conceal- 
ed ? An epitaph, and a history of a nameless 
hero, are equally absurd, since the virtues and 
qualities so recounted in either are scattered, 
at the mercy of fortune, to be appropriated by 
guess. The name, it Is true, may be read upon 
the stone, but what obligation has it to the poet, 
whose verses wander over the earth, and leave 
their subject behind them ; and who is forced, 
like an unskilful painter, to make his purpose 
known by adventitious help? — Ibid, p. 307. 

The highest panegyric that domestic virtue 
can receive, is the praise of servants ; for how- 
ever vanity or insolence may look down with 
contempt on the suffrage of men undignified by 
wealth, and unenlightened by education, it very 
seldom happens that they commend or blame 
without justice. 



136 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

The difficulty of writing epitaphs, is to give 
a particular and appropriate praise. — Ibid^ p. 
314. 



ERROR. 
" Errors," says Dryden, '' flow upon the 
surface ;" but there are some who will fetch 
them from the hoXiom. —JVotes upon Shak^ 
speare, v. 4, p. 393. 

ESTEEM. 
To raise esteem, we must benefit others; 
to procure love, we must please them. — Ram- 
bler, V. 4, p. 5. 

ELECTION. 
Perhaps no election, by a plurality of suf- 
frages, was ever made among human beings, 
to which it might not be objected, that voices 
were not procured by illicit influence. — Me- 
moirs of the King of Prussia , p. 125. 

EXPECTATION. 
Expectation, when once her wings are ex- 
panded, easily reaches heights which perform- 
ance never will attain ; and when she has 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 137 

mounted the summit of perfection, derides her 
follower who dies in the pursuit. — Plan of an 
English Dictionary^ p. 32. 

EFFECTS NOT ALWAYS PROPORTIONED 
TO THEIR CAUSES. 

It seems to be almost the universal error of 
historians, to suppose it politically, as it is phy- 
sically true, that every effect has a proportionate 
cause. In the inanimate action of matter upon 
matter, the motion produced can be but equal 
to the force of the moving power ; but the ope- 
rations of life, whether public, or private, admit 
no such laws. The caprices of voluntary 
agents, laugh at calculation. It is not always 
there is a strong reason for a great event ; ob- 
stinacy and flexibility, malignity and kindness, 
give place alternately to each other ; and the 
reason of those vicissitudes, however important 
may be the conseqences, often escapes the 
mind in which the change is made. — Falkland 
Islands^ p. 33. 

FAME. 
He that is loudly praised, will be clamorously 
censured. He that rises hastily into fame, will 

12* 



138 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

be in danger of sinking suddenly into oblivion. 
—Idler, V. 2, p. 25. 

The memory of mischief is no desirable fame. 
— Prince of Abyssinia, p. 257. 

The true satisfaction which is to be drawn 
from the consciousness that we shall share the 
attention of-future times, must arise from the 
hope, that with our names, our virtues shall be 
propagated, and that those whom we cannot 
benefit in our lives, may receive instruction 
from our example, and incitement from our 
renown. — Rambler, v. 1, p. 298. 

Fame cannot spread wide, or endure long, 
that is not rooted in nature, and matured by 
art. That which hopes to resist the blasts of 
malignity, and stand firm against the attacks of 
time, must contain in itself some original princi- 
ple of growth. — Ibid, v. 3, p. 292. 



FATHER. 

A father above the common rate of men has 
commonly a son below it. Heroum filii noxae. 
— JVoies upon Shakspeare, v. 1, p. 14. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 139 

FRIENDSHIP. 
Few love their friends so well, as not to de- 
sire superiority by unexpensive benefaction. — 
False Alarm, p. 47. 

Friendship in letter-writing has no tendency 
to secure veracity ; for by whom can a man so 
much wish to be thought better than he is, as 
by him whose kindness he desires to gain or 
keep } Even in writing to the world there is 
less constraint ; the author is not confronted 
with his reader, and takes his chance of appro- 
bation amongst the different dispositions of 
mankind. But a letter is addressed to a single 
mind, of which the prejudices and partialities 
are known, and must therefore please, if not 
by favouring them, by forbearing to oppose 
ihem. — Life of Pope. 

Friendship is not always the sequel of obliga- 
tion. — Ldfe of Thompson. 

Unequal friendships are easily dissolved. — 
This is often the fault of the superior : yet if 
we look without prejudice on the world, we 
shall often find that men, whose consciousness 
of their own merit sets them above the com- 



140 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

pliances of servility, are apt enough, in their 
association with superiors, to watch their own 
dignity with troublesome and punctilious jeal- 
ousy, and in the fervour of independence, to 
exact that attention which they refuse to pay. 
— Life of Gray. 

So many qualities are necessary to the pos- 
sibility of friendship, and so many accidents 
must concur to its rise and its continuance, that 
the greatest part of mankind content themselves 
without it, and supply its place as they can, 
with interest and dependence. — Rambler^ v. 
2, p. 59. 

That friendship may be at once fond and 
lasting, there must not only be equal virtue on 
each part, but virtue of the same kind 5 not 
only the same end must be proposed, but the 
same means must be approved by both. — Ibid. 

It were happy if, in forming friendships, vir- 
tue could concur with pleasure ; but the great- 
estlpart of human gratifications approach so 
nearly to vice, that few who make the delight 
of others their rule of conduct, can avoid dis- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 141 

ingenuous compliances ; — yet certainly he that 
suffers himself to be driven, or allured from 
virtue, mistakes his own interest, since he gains 
succour by means, for which his friend, if ever 
he becomes wise, must scorn him ; and for 
which, at last, he must scorn himself. — Ram- 
bier, V. 4, p. 5. 

Many have talked, in very exalted language, 
of the perpetuity of friendship; of invincible 
constancy and unalienable kindness ; and some 
examples have been seen of men who have 
continued faithful to their earliest choice, and 
whose affections have predominated over 
changes of fortune, and contrariety of opinion. 
But these instances are memorable, because 
they are rare. The friendship which is to be 
practised, or expected by common mortals, 
must take its rise from mutual pleasure, and 
must end when the power ceases of delighting 
each other. — Id'er^ v. 1, p. 126. 

The most fatal disease of friendship is gra- 
dual decay, or dishke hourly increased by causes 
too slender for complaint, and too numerous for 
removal. Tliose who are angry may be recon- 
ciled. Those who have been injured may re- 



142 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON* 

ceive a recompence ; but when the desire of 
pleasing, and willingness to be pleased, is silent- 
ly diminished, the renovation of friendship is 
hopeless ; as when the vital powers sink into 
langour, there is no longer any use of the phy 
sicidLU.— Ibid, p. 130. 

Among the uncertainties of the human state, 
we are doomed to number the instability of 
friendship.— ii/e of Addison. 

Men only become friends by community of 
pleasures. He who cannot be softened into 
gaiety cannot easily be melted into kindness. 
Upon this principle Falstaff despairs of gaining 
the love of Prince John of Lancaster, for '' he 
could not make him laugh." — JVotes upon 
Shahspeare, v. 5, p. 560. 

FLATTERY. 
In every instance of vanity it will be found 
that the blaiue ought to be shared among more 
than it generally reaches. All who exalt trifles 
by immoderate praise, or instigate needless 
emulation by invidious incitements, are to be 
considered as perverters of reason, and cor- 
rupters of the world ; and since every man is 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 143 

obliged to promote happiness and virtue, he 
should be careful not to mislead unwary minds, 
by appearing to set too high a value upon things 
by which no real excellence is conferred. — 
Rambler, v. 2, p. 74. 

To be flattered is grateful, even w^hen we 
know that our praises are not believed by those 
who pronounce ihem ; for they prove at least 
our power, and shew that our favour is valued, 
since it is purchased by the meanness of false- 
hood.— i6iW, p. 120. 

In order that all men may be taught to speak 
truth, it is necessary that all likewise should 
learn to hear it ; for no species of falsehood is 
more frequent than flattery, to which the coward 
is betrayed by fear, the dependent by interest, 
the friend by tenderness. Those who are neither 
servile nor timorous, are yet desirous to bestow 
pleasure ; and while unjust demands of praise 
continue to be made, there will always be some 
whom hope, fear, or kindness, will dispose to 
pay them. — Ibid, p. 247. 

He that is much flattered, soon learns to 
flatter himself. We are commonly taught our 



144 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

duty by fear, or shame ; and how can they 
act upon the man who hears nothing but his own 
praises? — Life of Swift, 

Just praise is only a debt, but flattery is a ^xe- 
sent.— Rambler, v. 3, p. 294. 

Neither our virtues, or vices are all our own. 
If there were no cowardice, there would be 
little insolence. Pride cannot rise to any great 
degree, but by the concurrence of blandish- 
ment, or the sufferance of tameness. The 
wretch who would shrink and crouch before one 
that should dart his eyes upon him with the 
spirit of natural equaliiy, becomes capricious 
and tyrannical when he sees himself approach- 
ed with a downcast look, and hears the soft 
addresses of awe and servility. To those who 
are willing to purchase favour by cringes and 
compliance, is to be imputed the haughtiness 
that leaves nothing to be hoped by firmness 
and integrity. — Ibid, v. 4, p. 3. 

FOLLY. 
The folly which is adapted to persons and 
times, has its propriety, and therefore produces 
no censure ; but the folly of wise men, when. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 145 

it happens, taints their wit, and destroys the 
reputation of their judgment. — JYotes upon 
Shakspeare, vol. 4, p. 225. 

No man will be found in whose mind airy 
notions do not sometimes tyrannize, and force 
him to hope, or fear, beyond the limits of sober 
probability. — Prince of Abyssinia, p. 259. 

FORTUNE. 
Fortune often delights to dignify what nature 
has neglected, and that renown, which cannot 
be claimed by intrinsic excellence, or greatness, 
is sometimes derived from unexpected acci- 
dents. — Falkland Islands^ p. 2. 

When fortune strikes her hardest blows, to 
be w^ounded and yet continue calm, requires a 
generous policy. Perhaps the first emotions 
of nature are nearly uniform, and one man 
differs from another in power of endurance, as 
he is better regulated by precept and instruc- 
tion. — JYotes upon Shakspeare, 



FOREIGNER. 
To be a foreigner was always in England a 
reason of dislike. — JYotes upon Shakspeare. 
13 



146 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

FEAR. 
All fear is in itself painful ; and when it con- 
duces not to safety, is painful without use. — 
Rambler, v. 1, p. 180. 

Fear is implanted in us as a preservative 
from evil ; but its duty, like that of other pas- 
sions, is not to overbear reason, but to assist it ; 
nor should it be suffered to tyrannize in the im- 
agination, to raise phantoms of horror, or beset 
life with supernumerary distresses. — Ibid, 



FORGIVENESS. 
Whoever considers the weakness both of 
himself and others, will not long want per- 
suasives to forgiveness. We know not to what 
degree of malignity any injury is to be imputed, 
or how much its guilt, if we were to inspect the 
mind of him that committed it, would be ex- 
tenuated by mistake, precipitance, or neg- 
ligence. We cannot be certain how much 
more we feel than was intended, or how much 
we increase the mischief to ourselv^es by volun- 
tary aggravations. We may charge to design 
the effects of accident. We may think the blow 
violent, only because we have made ourselves 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 147 

delicate and tender ; we are, on every side, in 
danger of error and guilt, which we are certain 
to avoid only by speedy forgiveness. — Ram- 
bier, v. 4, p. 137. 



FRUGALITY. 

Frugality may be termed the daughter of 
prudence, the sister of temperance, and the 
parent of liberty. He that is extravagant, will 
quickly become poor, and poverty will en- 
force dependence, and invite corruption. It 
will almost always produce a passive compli- 
ance with the wickedness of others, and there 
are few who do not learn by degrees to prac- 
tise those crimes which they cease to censure. — 
lhid,Y. 2, p. 21. 

Without frugality none can be rich, and with 
it, very few would be poor. — Ibid, 



Though in every age there are some who, 
by bold adventures, or by favourable accidents, 
rise suddenly into riches, the bulk of mankind 
must owe their affluence to small and gradual 
profits, below which their expense must be 
resolutely reduced. — Ibid, p. 23. 



148 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

The mercantile wisdom of " a penny saved 
is two-pence got," may be accommodated to all 
conditions, by observing, that not only they who 
pursue any lucrative employment will save 
time when they forbear expence, and that tin^e 
may be employed to the increase of profit ; but 
that they, who are above such minute consider- 
ations, will find by every victory over appetite 
or passion, new strength added to the mind, 
will gain the power of refusing those solicitations 
by which the young and vivacious are hourly 
assaulted, and, in time, set themselves above the 
reach of extravagance and folly.— /6^W, p. 24. 

It may, perhaps, be inquired, by those who 
are willing rather to cavil than to learn, what is 
the just measure of frugality ? To such no general 
answer can be given, since the liberty of spend- 
ing, or necessity of parsimony, may be varied 
without end by different circumstances. These 
three rules, however, may be laid down as not 
to be departed from : 

' A man's voluntary expences should not 
exceed his income.' 

^ Let no man anticipate uncertain profits.' 

' Let no man squander against his inclina- 
tion.' — Ibid. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 149 

FAVOUR. 
Favours of every kind are doubled when 
they are speedily conferred. — Rambler, v. 4. 

FANCY. 
The fanciful sports of great minds, are ne- 
ver without some advantage to knowledge. — 
Life of Sir T. Browne, p. 267. 

GENIUS. 
True genius is a mind of large general powers, 
accidentally determined to some particular di- 
rection. — Lfe of Cowley. 

Genius is powerful when invested with the 
glitter of affluence. Men willingly pay to for- 
tune that regard which they owe to merit, and 
are pleased when they have an opportunity at 
once of gratifying their vanity, and practising 
their duty. — Life of Savage. 

Whoever is apt to hope good from others, 
is diligent to please them ; but he that believes 
his powers strong enough to force their own 
way, commonly tries only to please himself — 
Life of Gay, 

13=^ 



150 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

Men have sometimes appeared, of such tran- 
scendant abilities, that their slightest and most 
cursory performances, excel all that labour and 
study can enable meaner intellects to compose: 
As there are regions of which the spontaneous 
products cannot be equalled in other soils, by 
care and culture. But it is no less dangerous 
for any man to place himself in this rank of under- 
standing, and fancy that he is born to be illus- 
trious without labour, than to omit the care of 
husbandry, and expect from his ground the 
blossoms of Arabia.' — Rambler^ vol. 4, p. 50. 

Misapplied genius most eomnionly proves 
ridiculous. — Idler ^ v. 2, p. 231. 

There are men who seem to think nothing 
so much characteristic of genius, as to do 
common things in an uncommon way ; like 
Hudibras, to tell the clock by Algebra, or like 
the lady in Dr. Young's Satires, " to drink tea 
by stratagem."— J6i^, v. 1, p. 202. 

Great powers cannot be exerted but when 
great exigencies make them necessar}^ Great 
exigencies can happen but seldom, and there- 
fore those qualities which have a claim to the 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 151 

veneration of mankind, lie hid, for the most 
part, like subterranean treasures, over which 
the foot passes as on common ground, till ne- 
cessity breaks open the golden cavern. — Ibid^ 
p. 287. 

It seems to have been, in all ages, the pride 
of wit to shew how it could exalt the low, and 
amplify the little. To speak not inadequately of 
things really and naturally great, is a task not 
only difficult but disagreeable, because the 
WTiter is degraded in his own eyes byst anding 
in comparison with his subject, to which he can 
hope to add nothing from his imagination. But 
it is a perpetual triumph of fancy to expand a 
scanty theme, to raise glittering ideas from 
obscure properties, and to produce to the world 
an object of wonder^ to v^ hich nature had con- 
tributed little. To this ambition, perhaps we 
owe the Frogs of Homer, the Gnat and Bees 
of Virgil, the Butterfly of Spencer, the Shadow 
of Woverus, and the Quincunx of Browne. — 
Life of Sir Thomas Browne, p. 266. 

GOVERNMENT. 
Governments formed by chance, and gradual- 
ly improved by such expedients as the succes- 



152 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON^ 

sive discovery of their defects happened to sug- 
gest, are never to be tried by a regular theory. 
They are fabricks of dissimilar materials, raised 
by different architects upon different plans. 
We must be content with them as they are ; 
should we attempt to mend their dispropor- 
tions, we might easily demolish, and with diffi- 
culty rebuild them. — False Alarm, p. 24. 

In all political regulations, good cannot be 
complete, it can only be predominant. — Western 
Islands, p. 208. 

No scheme of policy has, in any country, yet 
brought the rich on equal terms into courts of 
judicature. Perhaps experience improving on 
experience, may in time effect it. — Ibid, p. 
215. 

To hinder insurrection by driving away the 
people, and to govern peaceably by having no 
subjects, is an expedient that argues no great 
profundity of politics. To soften the obdurate, 
to convince the mistaken, to mollify the resent- 
ful, are worthy of a statesman ; but it affords a 
legislator little self applause to consider, that 
where there was formerly an insurrection, there 
is now a wilderness. — Ibid, p. 224. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 153 

The general story of mankind will evince, 
that lawful and settled autliority is v^ery seldom 
resisted when it is well employed. Gross cor- 
ruption, or evident imbecility, is necessary to 
the suppression of that reverence, with which 
the majority of mankind look upon their gover- 
nors, or those whom they see surrounded by 
splendour, and fortified by power.— iJamWer, 
V. 1, p. 30!, 

No government could subsist for a day, if 
single errors could justify defection.- — Taxation 
no Tyranny^ p. 62. 

Government is necessary to man ; and when 
obedience is not compelled, there is no govern- 
ment. — Ibid^ p. 77. 

GUILT. 
Guilt is generally afraid of light ; It considers 
darkness as a natural shelter, and makes night 
the confidant of those actions, which cannot be 
trusted to the tell-tale day. — JVotes upon Shaks- 
peare^ v. 6, p. 377. 

SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

No man, whose appetites are his masters, 
can perform the duties of his nature with strict- 



154 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

ness and regularity. He that would be superior 
to external influences, must first become supe- 
rior to his own passions.-— J<i/er, v. 1, p. 293. 

UNIVERSAL GOOD, 
All skill ought to be exerted for universal 
good. Every man has owed much to others^ 
and ought to pay the kindness that he has re- 
ceived. — Prince of Abyssinia, p. 41. 

HAPPINESS. 
We are long before we are convinced that 
happiness is never to be found; and each be- 
lieves it possessed by others, to keep alive the 
hope of obtaining it for himself. — Ibid, p. 
108. 

Whether perfect happiness can be procured 
by perfect goodness, this world will never afford 
an opportunity of deciding. But this, at least, 
may be maintained , that we do not always find 
visible happiness in proportion to visible virtue. 
—Ibid, p. 163. 

All natural, and almost all political evils, are 
incident alike to the bad or good. They are 
confounded in the misery of a famine, and not 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 155 

much distinguislied in the fury of a faction, 
They sink together in a tempest, and are driven 
together from their country by invaders. All 
that virtue can afford is quietness of conscience^ 
a steady prospect of a happier state, which will 
enable us to endure every calamity with 
patience. — Ibid. 

He that has no one to love, or to confide in, 
has litde to hope. He wants the radical prin- 
ciple of happiness.— iSit?, p. 210. 

It is, perhaps, a just observation, that with 
regard tooutward circumstances, happiness and 
misery are equally diffused through all states of 
human life. In civilized countries, where reg- 
ular policies have secured the necessaries of 
life, ambition, avarice, and luxury find the 
mind at leisure for their reception^ and soon en- 
gage it in new pursuits; pursuits that are to be 
carried only by incessant labour, and whether 
vain, or successful, produce anxiety and conten- 
tion. Among savage nations imaginary wants 
find, indeed, no place ; but their strength, ex- 
hausted by necessary toils, and their passions 
agitated, not by contests about superiority, afflu- 
ence, or precedence, but by perpetual care for 



156 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 

the present day, and by fear of perishing for 
want of common food. — Life of Drake^ p, 
211. 

Whatever be the cause of happiness, may be 
made likewise the cause of misery. The medi- 
cine which, rightly applied, has power to cure, 
has, when rashness or ignorance prescribes it*^ 
the same power to destroy. — Dissertation on 
Authors, p. 21, 

The happiness of the generality of people is 
nothing if it is not known, and very little if it is 
not envied.™ Jd'/'er, v. 2, p. 155. 

It has been observed in all ages, that the ad- 
vantages of nature, or of fortune, have contribu- 
ted very little to the promotion of happiness } 
and those whom the splendour of their rank^ 
or the extent of their capacity, have placed 
upon the summits of human life, have not often 
given any just occasion to envy in those who 
look up to them from a lower station. Wheth- 
er it be, that apparent superiority incites great 
designs, and great designs are naturally liable 
to fatal miscarriages, or that the general lot of 
mankind is misery, and the misfortunes of those 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSOH. 157 

whose eminence drew upon them an universal 
attention, have been more faithfully recorded, 
because they were more generally observed, 
and have, in reality, been only more conspicu- 
ous than those of others, more frequent or more 
severe. — Life of Savage, 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

The great end of prudence is to give cheer- 
fulness to those hours which splendor cannot 
gild, and acclamation cannot exhilarate. Those 
soft intervals of unbended amusement, in which 
a man shrinks to his natural dimensions, and 
throws aside the ornaments, or disguises which 
he feels, in privacy, to be useful incumbrances, 
and to lose all effect when they become famil- 
iar. To be happy at home is the ultimate result 
of all ambition ; the end to which every enter- 
prise and labour tends, and of which every de- 
sire prompts the prosecution. It is indeed at 
home that every man must be known, by those 
who would make a just estimate either of his 
virtue, or felicity ; for smiles and embroidery 
are alike occasional, and the mind is often dress- 
ed for show in painted honour, and fictitious 
benevolence. — Rambler, v. 2. p. 82. 
14 



158 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

The highest panegyric that domestic virtue 
can receive is the praise of servants; for how- 
ever vanity or insolence raay look down with 
contempt on the suffrage of nnen undignified 
by wealth, and unenlightened by education, it 
very seldom happens that they commend or 
blame without justice. — Ibid. 



HABITS. 

No man forgets his original trade ; the rights 
of nations and of kings sink into questions of 
grammar, if grammarians discuss them. — Life 
of Milton. 

HEALTH. 
Such is the powder of health, that without its 
co-operation, every other comfort is torpid and 
lifeless^ as the powder of vegetation without the 
sun.— Rambler^ v. 1, p. 291. 

HOPE. 
Our powers owe much of their energy to our 
hopes ; — -possunt quia posse videntur. — Life of 
Milton. 

The understanding of a man*, naturally san- 
guine, may be easily vitiated by the luxurious 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 159 

indulgence of hope, however necessary to the 
production of every thing great, or excellent, 
as some plants are destroyed by too open an 
exposure to that sun, which gives life and 
beauty to the vegetable world.— -Rambler, v. I, 
p. 10. 

Where there is no hope, there can be no 
endeavour. — Ibid, v. 3, p. 26. 

Hope is the chief blessing of man, and that 
hope only is rational, of which we are certain 
that it cannot deceive us. — Ibid, v. 4, p. 236. 

Hope is necessary in every condition. The 
miseries of poverty, of sickness, of captivity, 
would, without this comfort, be insupportable ; 
nor does it appear that the happiest lot of 
terrestrial existence, can set us above the want 
of this general blessing ; or that life, when the 
gifts of nature and fortune are accumulated 
upon it, would not still be wretched, were it 
not elevated and delighted by the expectation 
of some new possession, of some enjoyment 
yet behind, by which the wish shall be at last 
satisfied, and the heart filled up to its utmost 
extent. Yet hope is verv fa^br'^^us. and. 



160 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

promises what it seldom gives ; but its promises 
are more valuable than the gifts of fortune, and 
it seldom frustrates us without assuring us of 
recompensing the delay by a great bounty. — 
Ihid^ V. 2, p. 75. 

HUMANITY. 
He does nothing who endeavours to do more 
than is allowed to humanity. — Prince of Abys- 
sinia^ p. 179. 



HISTORY. 
He that records transactions in which himself 
was engaged, has not only an opportunity of 
knowing innumerable particulars which escape 
spectators, but has his natural powers exalted 
by that ardour which always rises at the re- 
membrance of our own importance, and by 
which every man is enabled to relate his own 
actions better than another's.— /(iZer, v. 2, p. 69. 

He that writes the history of his own times, 
if he adheres strictly to truth,, will write that 
which his own times will not easily endure. 
— He must be content to reposite his book till 
all private passions shall cease, and love and 
hatred give way to curiosity.— JiiJ, p. 72* 



HAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 161 

GOOD - HUMOUR. 

Good-hnmoiir may be defined ; a habit of 
being pleased ; a constant and perennial softness 
of manner, easiness of approach, and suavity of 
disposition, like that which every onie -perceives 
in himself, when the first transports of new 
felicity have subsided, and his thoughts are only 
kept in motion by a slow succession of soft 
impulses. — Rambler^ v. 5. p. 102. 

Good-humour is a state between gaiety and 
unconcern ; the act of a mind at leisure to 
regard the gratification of another. — Ibid, 

Surely nothingcan be more unreasonable than 
to lose the will to please, when we are conscious 
of the power, or shew more cruelty than to 
choose any kind of inflisence before that of 
kindness and good-humour. He that regards 
the welfare of others, should make his virtue 
approachable, that it may be loved and copied ; 
and he that considers the wants which every 
man feels, or will feel, of external assistance, 
must rather wish to be surrounded by those that 
love him, than. by those that admire his excel- 
lencies, or solicit his favors ; for admiration 
ceases with novelty, and interest gains its end 
14^* 



162 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

and retires. A man whose great qualities want 
the ornament of superficial attractions, is like 
a naked mountain with mines of gold, which 
will he frequented only till the treasure is ex- 
hausted. — Ibid, p. 105. 



GOOD -HUMOUR, 
{Compared with Gaiety.) 
Gaiety is to good-humour as animal perfumes 
to vegetable fragrance. The one overpowers 
weak spirits, the other recreates and revives 
them. Gaiety seldom fails to give some pain ; 
the hearers either strain their faculties to ac- 
company its towerings, or are left behind in 
envy or despair. Good-humour boasts no 
faculties, which every one does not believe in 
his own power, and pleases principally by not 
offending. — Rambler, v. 2, p. 102. 



JEALOUSY. 
That natural jealousy which makes every 
man unwilling to ^llow much excellence in 
another, always produces a disposition to believe 
that the mind grows old with the body, and 
that he whom we are now forced to confess 
superior, is hastening daily to a level with 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 163 

ourselves. Intellectual decay, doubtless, is not 
uncommon, but it is not universal. Newton 
v^as in his eighty-fifth year improving his 
chronology, and Waller at eighty-two,is thought 
to have lost none of his poetical powers. — 
Life of Waller. 

Jealousy is a passion compounded of love and 
suspicion. — JVotes upon Shakspeare, v. 4, p. 
317. 

JESTING. 
Unless men have the prudence not to appear 
touched with the sarcasms of a jester, they 
subject themselves to his power, and the wise 
man will have his folly anatomised by a fool. — 
JVotes upon Shakspeare, v. 3, p. 306. 

Jocose follies and slight offences are only 
allowed by mankind in him that overpowers 
ihem by great qualities. — Ibid, yo\, 4, p. 19. 

JOY. 
As briars have sweetness with their prickles, 
so are troubles often recompensed with joy. — 
Ibid, p. 121. 



164 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

JUDGMENT. 
Those who have no power to judge of past 
times, but by their own, should always doubt 
their conclusions. — Life of Milton. 

As laws operate in civil agency, not to the 
excitement of virtue, but the repression of wick- 
edness, so judgment, in the operations of intel- 
lect, can hinder faults, but not produce excel- 
lence. — Life of Prior. 

Nothing is more unjust than to judge of a 
man by too short an acquaintance, and too slight 
inspection 5 for it often happens, that in the 
loose and thoughtless, and dissipated, there is 
a secret radical worth, which may shoot out by 
pmper cultivation. That the spark of heaven, 
though dimmed and obstructed, is yet not ex- 
tinguished, but maj^, by the breath of counsel 
and exhortation, be kindled into a flame. To 
imagine that every one who is not completely 
good, is irrevocably abandoned, is to suppose 
that all are capable of the same degree of ex- 
cellence ; it is indeed, to exact from all, that 
perfection which none ever can attain. And 
since the purest virtue is consistent with some 
vice, and the virtue of the greatest number. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 165 

with almost an equal proportion of contrary 
qualities, let none too hastily conclude that all 
goodness is lost, though it may for a time be 
clouded and overwhelmed ; for most minds are 
the slaves of external circumstances, and con- 
form to any hand that undertakes to mould 
them, roll down any torrent of custom in which 
they happen to be caught ; or bend to any im- 
portunity that bears hard against them. — Ram- 
bier, V. 2, p. 94. 

ThosQ that have done nothing in life, are not 
qualified to judge of those that have done little. 
— Plan of an English Dictionary, p. 49. 

It is impossible for those that have only known 
affluence and prosperity, to judge rightly of 
themselves and others. The rich and power- 
ful live in a perpetual masquerade, in which 
all about them wear borrowed characters ; and 
we only discover in what estimation we are held, 
when we can no longer give hopes or fears. — 
Rambler, v. 2, p. 124. 

JUSTICE. 

One of the principal parts of national felicity, 
arises from a wise and impartial administration 



166 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

of justice. Every man reposes upon the tribu- 
nals of his country the stability of profession and 
the serenity of life. He therefore who unjustly 
exposes the courts of judicature to suspicion, 
either of partiality, or error, not only does an 
injury to those who dispense the laws, but di- 
minishes the public confidence in the laws 
themselves, and shakes the foundation of pub- 
lic tranquillity. — Convicfs Address, p. 20. 

Of justice, one of the heathen sages has 
shewn, with great acuteness, that it was im- 
pressed upon mankind only by the inconve- 
niences which injustice had produced. " In 
the first Pges, says he, men acted without any 
rule but the impulse of desire ; they practised 
injustice upon others, and suffered it from 
others in return ; but, in time, it w^as discov- 
ered that the pain of suffering wrong, was 
greater than the pleasure of doing it, and man-^ 
kind by a general compact submitted to the 
restraint of laws, and resigned the pleasure to 
escape the pain."— Jc//er, v. 2, p. 208. 

What the law does in every nation between 
individuals, justice ought to do between na- 
tions. — JYotes upon Shakspeare, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 167 

INDUSTRY. 

Few things are iinpossible to industry and 
skill. — Prince of Abyssinia^ p. 88. 

Many things difficult to design, prove easy to 
performance.— /6ic?5 p. 93. 

He that shall walk with vigour three hours 
a day, will pass, in seven years, a space equal 
to the circumference of the globe. — Ibid. 

Whatever busies the mind without corrupt- 
ing it, has, at least, this use, that it rescues the 
day from idleness : and he that is never idle, 
will not often be vicious. — Rambler^ v. 4, p. 97. 

INDISCRETION. 
We sometimes succeed by indiscretion^ when 
we fail by deep laid schemes, — JVotes upon 
Shakspeare, v. 10, p. 389. 

IMITATION. 
No man was ever great by imitation. — 
Prince ofMyssinia, p. 66. 

It is justly considered as the greatest excel- 
lency of art, to imitate nature ; but it requires 



168 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

judgment to distinguish those parts of nature 
which are most proper for imitation. — Rambler^ 
V. 1, p. 21. 

As not every instance of similitude can be 
considered as a proof of imitation, so not every 
imitation ought to be stigmatized as a plagia- 
rism.— .The adoption of a noble sentiment, or 
the insertion of a borrowed ornament, may 
sometimes display so much judgment, as will 
almost compensate for invention ; and an infe- 
rior genius may, without any imputation of ser- 
vility, pursue the path of the ancients, provided 
he declines to tread in their footsteps. — Ibid, 
V. 3, p. 231. 

The reputation which arises from the detail, 
or transposition of borrowed sentiments, may 
spread for a while, like ivy on the rind of an- 
tiquity, but will be torn away by accident, or 
contempt, and suffered to rot, unheeded, on the 
ground. — Ibid, p. 292. 

When the original is well chosen, and judi- 
ciously copied, the imitator often arrives at ex- 
cellence, which he could never have attained 
without direction ; for few are formed with 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 169 

abilities to discover new possibilities of excel- 
lence, and to distinguish themselves by means 
never tried before. — Ibid^ v. 4, p. 25. 

INDOLENCE. 
It is in vain to put wealth within the reach of 
him who will not stretch out his hand to take 
it. — Life of King. 

Indolence is one of those vices from which 
those whom it once infects are seldom reform- 
ed. — Rambler^ v. 3, p. 298. 

Every other species of luxury operates upon 
some appetite that is quickly satiated, and re- 
quires some concurrence of art, or accident, 
which every place will not supply ; but the de- 
sire of ease acts equally at all hours, and the 
longer it is indulged, is the more increased. — 
Ibid. 

He that is himself weary, will soon weary 
the public. Let him, therefore, lay down his 
employment, whatever it be, who can no longer 
exert his former activity, or attention. Let 
him not endeavour to struggle with censure, or 
obstinately infest the stage, till a general hiss 
commands him to depart. — Ibid^ v. 4, p. 258. 
15 



170 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

IDLENESS. 
As pride is sometimes hid under humility^ 
idleness is often covered by turbulence and 
hurry. He that neglects his known duty, and 
real employment, naturally endeavours to 
crowd his mind with something that may bar 
out the remembrance of his own folly, and does 
any thing but what he ought to do, with eager 
diligence, that he may keep himself in his own 
favour. — Idler ^ v. 1, p. 172. 

Perhaps every man may date the predomi- 
nance of those desires that disturb his life, and 
contaminate bis conscience, from some unhappy 
hour, when too much leisure exposed him to 
their incursions; for he has lived with little 
observation, either on himself, or others, who 
does not know that to be idle is to be vicious. — 
Rambler^ v. 2, p. 181. 

There are said to be pleasures in madness, 
known only to madmen. There are certainly 
miseries in idleness, which the idler can only 
conceive. — Idler ^ v. 1, p. 15. 

Of all the enemies of idleness, want is the 
most formidable. Fame is soon found to be a 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 171 

sound, and love a dream. Avarice and annbltion 
niay be justly suspected of being privy confed- 
erates with idleness ; for when they have, for 
a while, protected their votaries, they often de- 
liver them up, to end their lives under her 
dominion. Want always struggles against idle- 
ness ; but want herself is often overcome, and 
every hour shews the careful observer those 
who had rather live in ease than In plenty. — 
Ibid, p. 51. 

INTEGRITY. 

Integrity without knowledge is weak, and 
generally useless ; and knowledge without in- 
tegrity is dangerous and dreadful. — Prince of 
Abyssinia, p. 249. 

IGNORANCE. 

The man who feels himself ignorant, should 
at least be modest. — Preliminary Discourse 
to the London Chronicle, p. 156. 

Ignorance cannot always be inferred from 
inaccuracy, knowledge is not always ])resent. — 
JYotes upon Shakspeare, vol. 6, p. 101. 



172 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

IGNORANCE, [Compared with Knowledge.) 
The expectation of ignorance is indefinite, 
and that of knowledge often tyrannical. It is 
hard to satisfy those who know not what to 
demand, or those who demand, by design, what 
they think impossible to be done.— Pre/ace to 
Shakspeare, p. 68. 



IGNORANCE, (Compared with Confidence.) 
In things difficult there is danger from igno- 
rance ; in things easy, from confidence. — Pre- 
face to Dictionary^ fol. p. 9. 

IMPRUDENCE. 
Those who, in confidence of supeiior capac- 
ities and attainments, disregard the common 
maxims of life, ought to be reminded, that 
nothing will supply the want of prudence; and 
that negligence and irregularity, long continued, 
will make knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and 
genius contemptible. — Life of Savage, 

IMPRISONMENT. 
Few are mended by imprisonment; and he 
whose crimes have made confinement necessary, 
seldom makes any other use of his enlargement. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 173 

than to do with greater cunning what he did 
before with less. — False A'arm^ p. 8. 

The end of all civil regulations is to secure 
private ha[)piness from private malignity, to 
keep individuals from the power of one another. 
But this end is apparently neglected by im- 
prisonment for deht^ when a man, irritated with 
loss, is allowed to be a judge of his own cause, 
and to assign the punishment of his own pain ; 
when the distinction between guilt and unhappi- 
ness, between casualty and design, is entrusted 
to eyes blind with interest, to understandings 
depraved by resentment.— J(i/er, v. 1, p. 122. 

In a prison the awe of the public eye is lost, 
and the power of the law is spent. There are 
few fears, there are no blushes. The lewd in- 
flame the lewd ; the audacious harden the au- 
dacious. Every one fortifies himself as he can 
against his own sensibility, and endeavours to 
practice on others the arts which are practiced 
on himself, and gains the kindness of his associ • 
ates by similitude of manners. — Ibid^ p. 216. 

It is not so dreadful in a high spirit to be 
imprisoned, as it is desirable in a state of 
15=^ 



174 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

disgrace to be sheltered from the scorn of the 
gazers. — JYotes upon Shakspeare, vol. 6, p. 
343. 



IMPOSITION. 
There are those who having got the cant oj 
the day, with a superficial readiness of slight 
and cursory conversation, who very often impose 
themselves as men of understanding, upon wise 
men. — JVotes upon Shaksp ear e, v. 10, p. 401. 



IMAGINATION. 
It is the great failing of a strong imagination 
to catch greedily at wonders. — Memoirs of the 
King of Prussia, p. 118. 

A man who once resolves upon ideal disco- 
veries, seldom searches long in vain. — Life of 
Sir T. Browne, p. 266. 

It is a disposition to feel the force of words, 
and to combine the ideas annexed to them with 
quickness, that shews one man's imagination to 
be better than another's, and distinguishes a fine 
taste from dulness and stupidity. — Review of the 
Sublime and Beautiful, p. 57. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 175 

INTELLIGENCE. 

Without intelligence man is not social, he is 
only gregarious ; and lirtle intelligence will there 
be, where all are constrained to daily labour, and 
every mind must wait upon the lvdud,-—M^estern 
Islands, p. 317. 



FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE. 
or remote transactions, the first accounts are 
always confused, and commonly exaggerated ; 
and in domestic affairs, if the power to conceal 
is less, the interest to misrepresent is often 
greater ; and what is sufficiently vexatious, truth 
seems to fly from curiosity ; and, as many en- 
quiries produce many narratives, whatever en- 
gages the public attention, is immediately dis- 
guised by the embellishments of fiction, — 
Preliminary Discourse to the London Chroni- 
cle, p. 154. 

IRRESOLUTION. 
He that knows not whither to go, is in no 
haste to move. — Life of Swift, 

SELF-IMPORTANCE. 
Every man is of importance to himself, and 
therefore, in his own opinion, to others , and 



176 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

supposing the world already acquainted with all 
his pleasures and his pains, is, perhaps, the first 
to publish injuries, or misfortuues, which had 
never been known unless related by himself, 
and at which those that hear hino will only 
laugh ; for no man synipathizes with the sor- 
rows of vanity.— i2ye of Pope. 

The man who threa ens the world is always 
ridiculous ; for the world can easily go on 
without him, and, in a short time, will cease to 
miss him. — Ibid. 

INSULT. 

Whatever be the motive of insult, it is always 
best to overlook it, for folly scarcely can de- 
serve resentment, and malice is punished by 
neglect; — Rambler^ v. 4, p. 221. 

INCREDULITY. 

To refuse credit, confers, for a moment, 
an appearance of superiority, which every little 
mind is tempted to assume, when it may 
be gained so cheaply, as by withdrawing atten- 
tion from evidence, and declining the fatigue of 
comparing probabilities. — Idler ^ v. 2, p. 195. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 177 

The most pertinacious and vehement de- 
monstrator may be wearied, in time, by con- 
tinual negation, and incredulity, which an old 
poet, in his address to Raleigh, calls '' the wit 
of fools," obtunds the arguments which it can- 
not answer, as woolsacks deaden arrows, though 
they cannot repel them. — Ibid^ p. 196. 

INDULGENCE. 

The man who commits common faults, 
should not be precluded from common indul- 
gence.— Pre/i772i?2ari/ Discourse to the London 
Chronicle^ p. 155. 

RURAL IMPROVEMENTS. 
Whether to plant a walk in undulating curves, 
and to place a bench at every turn where there 
is an object to catch the view ; to make water 
run where it will be heard, and to si agnate 
where it will be seen ; to leave intei vals where 
the eye will be pleased, and to thicken the 
plantation where there is som.ething to be hidden, 
demands any great powers of mind, we will not 
enquire. Perhaps a surly sullen speculator 
may think such performances rather the s; ort, 
than the business of human reason. But it 



178 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

must be at least confessed, that to embellish the 
form of nature is innocent amusement, and 
some praise must be allowed, by the most su- 
percilious observer, to him who does best, what 
such multitudes are contending to do well. — 
Life of Shenstone. 

INCLINATION. 

It may reasonably be asserted, that he who 
finds himself strongly attracted to any parti- 
cular study, though it may happen to be out of 
his proposed scheme, if it is not trifling or vi- 
cious, had better continue his application toit, 
since it is likely that he will, with much more 
ease and expedition, attain that which a warm 
inclination stimulates him to pursue, than that at 
which a prescribed law compels him to toil. — 
Idler, V. 2. p. 85. 

KNOWLEDGE. 
Man is not weak ; knowledge is more than 
equivalent to force. — Prince of Abyssinia, p. 90. 

As knowledge advances, pleasure passes 
from the eye to the ear ; but returns, as it 
declines, from the ear to the eye.- — Preface to 
ShaJcspearCj p. 34. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 179 

Other things may be seized by might, or pur- 
chased with money ; but knowledge is to be 
gained only by study, and study to be prose- 
cuted only in retirement. — Rambler, 

The seeds of knowledge may be planted in 
solitude, but must be cultivated in publick. — 
Ibid, V. 4, p. 48. 

No degree of knowledge, attainable by man, 
is able to set him above the want of hourly 
assistance, or to extinguish the desire of fond 
endearments, and tender officiousness ; and 
therefore no one should think it unnecessary to 
learn those arts by which friendship may be 
gained. Kindness is preserved by a constant 
reciprocation of benefits, or interchange of plea- 
sures ; but such benefits only can be bestowed, 
as others are capable to receive, and such plea- 
sures only imparted, as others are qualified to 
enjoy. By this descent from the pinnacles of 
art, no honour will be lost ; for the condescen- 
sions of learning are always overpaid by grati- 
tude. An elevated genius employed in little 
things, appears, to use the simile of Longinus, 
" like the sun in its evening declination ; he 
remits his splendor, but retains his magnitude ; 



180 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

and pleases more, though he dazzles less.'^— 
Ibid, V. 3, p. 190. 

In all parts of human knowledge, whether 
terminating in science merely speculative, or 
operating upon life, private, or civil, are ad- 
mitted some fundamental principles, or com- 
mon axioms, which, being generally received, 
are little doubted, and being little doubted, have 
been rarely proved. — Taxation no Tyranny, 

p. 1. 

One man may be often ignorant, but never 
ridiculous, another may be full of knowledge, 
whilst his variety often distracts his judgment, 
and his learning frequently is disgraced by his 
absurdities. — Preface to Dictionary, p. 3. 

It is to be lamented, that those who are most 
capable of iniproving mankind, very frequently 
neglect to communicate their knowledge, either 
because it is more pleasing to gather ideas than 
to impart them, or because, to minds naturally 
great, few things appear of so much importance 
as to deserve the notice of the public— Zi^i/e 
of Thos. Browne, p. 256. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 181 

Acquisitions of knowledge, like blazes of 
genius, are often fortuitous. Those who had 
proposed to themselves a methodical course of 
reading, light by accident on a new book, which 
seizes their thoughts, and kindles their curiosity, 
and opens an unexpected prospect, to which 
the way which they had prescribed to them- 
selves would never have conducted them. — 
Idler, V. 2, p. 79. 

All foreigners remark, that the knowledge of 
the common people of England is greater than 
that of any other VLi]gar.^-76i6?, v. 1, p. 35. 



KINGS. 

The studies of princes seldom produce 
great effect ; for princes draw, with meaner 
mortals, the lot of understanding ; and since of 
many students not more than one can be hoped 
to advance to perfection, it is scarcely to be 
expected to find that one a prince. — Memoirs 
of the King of Prussia, p. 99. 

Kings, without some time passing their time 
without pomp, and without acquaintance with 
the various forms of life, and with the genuine 
16 



182 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

passions, interests, desires, and distresses of 
mankind, see the world in a niist, and bound 
their views to a narrow compass. It was, per- 
haps, to the private condition in which Crom- 
well first entered the world, that he owed the 
superiority of understanding he had over most 
of our kings. In that state, he learned the art 
of secret transactions, and the knowledge by 
which he was able to oppose zeal to zeal, and 
make one enthusiast destroy another. — Ibid. 

It is a position long received amongst poli- 
ticians, that the loss of a king's power is soon 
followed by the loss of life. — JVotes upon 
Shakspeare, v. 6, p. 440. 

LIFE. 

Life is not to be counted by the ignorance of 
infancy, or the imbecility of age. We are long 
before we are able to think, and we soon cease 
from the power of acting. — Prince of Abyssinia, 
p. 26. 

Human life is every where a state in which 
much is to be endured, and little to be enjoyed. 
— Ibid, p. 8. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 183 

Life may be lengthened by care, tboiigh 
death cannot ultim itely be defeated. — Preface 
to Dictionary^ p. 10. 

The great art of life is to play for much, and 
stake little. — Dissertation on Authors^ p. 29. 

It has always been lan:iented, that of the little 
time allotted to man, much must be spent upon 
s^iperfluities. Every prospect has its obstruc- 
tions, which we must break to enlarge our 
view. Every step of our pi'ogress finds impedi- 
ments, which, however eager to go forward, we 
must stop to remove. — Pre iminary Discourse 
to London Chronicle, p. 153. 

An even and unvaried tenor of life always 
hides from our_ apprehension the approach of 
its end. Succession is not perceived but by 
variation. He that lives to-day as he lived 
yesterday, and expects that as the present day 
such will be to-morrow, easily conceives time 
as running in a circle, and returning to itself. 
The uncertainty of our situation is impressed 
commonly by dissimilitude of condition, and it 
is only by finding life changeable, that we are 
reminded of its shortness. — Idler, v. 2. 



184 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

He that embarks in the voyage of life, will 
atvvays wish to advance rather by the impulse 
of the wind than the strokes of the oar; and 
many founder in their passage, while they lie 
waiting for the gale. — Ibid^ v. 1. 

A minute analysis of life at once destroys the 
splendour which dazzles the imagination. What- 
soever grandeur can display, or luxury enjor, 
is procured by offices of which the mind shrinks 
from the contemplation. All the delicacies of 
the table may be traced back to the shambles 
and the dunghill — all magnificence of building 
was hewn from the quarry, and all the pomp of 
ornament dug from among the damps and 
darkness of the mine. — JVoies upon Shak- 
speare, v. 2, p. 73. 

In the different degrees of life, there will be 
often found much meanness among the great, 
and much greatness amongst the mean. — Ibid, 
V. 3, p. 181. 

Every man has seen the mean too often 
proud of the humi-ity of the great, and perhaps 
the great may sometimes be humbled in the 
praises of the mean ; particularly of those who 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. l85 

commend them without conviction, or discern- 
ment. — Ibid^ V. 4, p. 21. 

When we see by so many examples, how few 
are the necessaries of life, we should learn what 
madness there is in so much superfluity.— i6ii, 
V. 8, p. 345. 

LEARNING. 
It is not by comparing line with line, that the 
merit of great works is to be estimated ; but by 
their general effects and ultimate result. — Life 
of Dry den. 

When learning w^as first rising on the world, 
in the fifteenth century, ages so long accustomed 
to darkness, were too much dazzled with its 
light to see any thing distinctly. The first race 
of scholars, hence, for the most part, were 
learning to speak rather than to think, and were 
therefore more studious of elegance than truth. 
The contemporaries of Boethius thought it suffi- 
cient to know what the ancients had delivered ; - 
the examination of tenets and facts was reserved 
for another generation. — Western Is ands, p. 28. 

In nations where there is hardly the use of 
letters, what is once out of sight, is lost forever. 
16* 



186 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

They think but little^ and of their few thoughts 
none are wasted on the part in which 'they are 
neither interested by fear nor hope. Their 
only registers are stated observances and practi- 
cal representations ; for this reason an age of 
ignorance is an age of ceremony. Pageants and 
processions, and commemorations, gradually 
shrink away as better methods come into use 
of recording events and preserving rights. — 
Ibid, p. 145. 

False hopes and false terrors are equally to 
be avoided. Every man w4io proposes to grow 
eminent by learning, should carry in his mind 
at once the difficulty of excellence, and the 
force of industry ; and remember that fame is 
not conferred but as the recompence of labour ; 
and that labour, vigorously continued, has not 
often failed of its reward.— jR«m6/er, v. 1, p. 
155. 

Literature is a kind of intellectual light, 
which, like the light of the sun, may sometimes 
enable us to see, what we do not like ; but who 
would wish to escape unpleasing objects, by 
condemning himself to perpetual darkness?—- 
Dissertation on Authors, p. 22. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 187 

It is the great excellence of learning, that it 
borrows very little from time or place. It is 
not confined to season, or to climate ; to cities, 
or the country ; but may be cultivated and enjoy- 
ed where no other pleasure can be obtaiaedo — 
Idler, V. 2, p. 234. 

LOVE. 
It is not hard to love those from whom nothing 
can be feared. — Life of Addis on » 

In love it has been held a maxim, that success 
is most easily obtained by indirect, and unper- 
ceived approaches ; he who too soon professes 
himself a lover, raises obstacles to his own 
wishes ; and those whom disappointments have 
taught experience, ehdeavour to conceal their 
passion, till they believe their mistress wishes 
for the discovery.— KamiJer. 

Love being always subject to the operations 
of time, suffers change and dimunition. — JVotes 
upon ShaJcspear^e, v. 10. p. 3G6. 

SELF - LOVE. 
Partiality to ourselves is seen in a variety of 
instances. The liberty of the press is a blessing, 



188 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

when we are inclined to write against others j 
and a calamity, when we find ourselves over- 
borne by the multitude of our assailants ; as the 
power of the crown is always thought too great 
'>y those who suffer through its influence, and 
too little by those in whose favour it is exerted. 
A standing army is generally accounted neces- 
sary by those who command, and dangerous 
and oppressive by those who support it. — Life 
of Savage, 

To charge those favourable representations 
which every man gives of himself, with the guilt 
of hypocritical falsehood, would shew more 
severity than knowledge. The writer common- 
ly believes himself. Almost every man's 
thoughts, whilst they are general, are right ; and 
most hearts are pure, whilst temptation is away. 
It is easy to awaken generous sentiments in 
privacy, — to despise death where there is no 
danger, — to glow with benevolence where there 
is nothing to be given. Whilst such ideas are 
formed, they are felt, and self-love does not 
suspect the gleam of virtue to be the meteor of 
fa*ncy,-— iife of Pope, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 189 

LANGUAGE. 

When the matter is low and scanty, a dead 
language, in which nothing is mean, because 
nothing is familiar, affords great convenience. — 
Life of Addison, 

Language is only the instrument of science, 
and w^ords are but the signs of ideasc — Preface 
to Dictionary. 

However academies have been instituted to 
guard the avenues of their languages; to retain 
fugitives and repulse intruders ; their vigilance 
and activity have hitherto been vain. Sounds 
are too volatile and subtle for legal restraints; 
to enchain syllables and lash the wind are 
equally the undertakings of pride, unwilling to 
measure its desires by its strength. Among a 
people polished by art, and classed by subor- 
dination, those who have much leisure to think, 
will always be enlarging the stock of ideas ; 
and every increase of knowledge, whetherreal, 
or fancied, will produce new words, or combi- 
nations of words. When the mind is unchained 
from necessity, it wi 1 range after convenience; 
when it is left at large in the fields of speculation, 
it will shift opinions. As any custom is diffused, 



190 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

the words that expressed it must perish with it ; 
as any opinion grows popular^ it will innovate 
speech in the same proportion as it alters 
practice.— J6ic?5 p., 9, 

It is incident to words, as to their authors, to 
degenerate from their ancestors, and to change 
their manners when they change their country- 
— Ibid, p. 3. 

To our language may be, with great justness, 
applied the observation of Quintillian, '^ that 
speech was not formed by an analogy sent from 
heaven." It did not descend to us in a state 
of uniformity and perfection, but was produced 
by necessity, and enlarged by accident, andis 
therefore composed of dissimilar parts, thrown 
together by negligence, by affectation, by learn- 
ing, or by ignorance.— °P/an of an English 
Dictionaryo 

No nation can trace their language beyond 
the second period ; and even of that it does not 
often happen that many monuments remain* 
-"Idler, v. 2, p. 62. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 191 

ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

There is not, perhaps, one of the liberal arts 
which may not be completely learned in the 
English language. — Ibid^ p. 219. 

In our language two negatives did not origi- 
nally affirm^ but strengthen the negation. — 
This mode of speech was in time changed, but 
as the change was made in opposition to long 
customs it proceeded gradually, and uniformity 
was not obtained but through an intermediate 
confusion.— JVb/e5 upori Shakspeare, v. 4. 

LAWS. 
It is, perhaps, impossible to review the laws 
of any country, without discovering many de- 
fects, and many superfluities. Laws often 
continue when their reasons have ceased. 
Laws made for the first state of the society, 
continue unabolished when the general form of 
life is changed. Parts of the judicial proce- 
dure, which were at first only accidental, be- 
come, in time, essential; and formalities are 
accumulated on each other, till the art of litiga- 
tion requires more study than the discovery of 
right. — Memoirs of the K. of Prussia, p. 112. 



192 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

To embarrass justice by multiplicity of laws, 
or to hazard it by confidence in judges, seem 
to be the opposite rocks on which all civil in- 
stitutions have been wrecked, and between 
which, legislative wis lorn has never yet found 
an open passage.— /o>z J. 

It is observed, that a corrupt society has 
many laws.— /(iier, v. 2, p. 186. 

LIBERTY. 
A zeal, which is often thought, and called 
liberty, sometimes disguises from the world, 
and not rarely from the mind which it posses- 
ses, an envious desire of plundering wealth, or 
degrading greatness ; and of which the imme- 
diate tendency is innovation and anarchy, or 
imperious e.agerness to subvert and confound, 
with very little care what shall be established. 
— Life of Akenside. 

LOYALTY. 
As a man inebriated only by vapours, soon 
recovers in the open air, a nation discontented 
to madness, without any adequate cause, will 
return to its wits and allegiance, when a little 
pause has cooled it to reflecticgj — False Alarm. 



MAXmS OF JOHNSON. 193 

MARRIAGE, 

Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has 
no pleasures. — -Prince of Abyssinia, p. 158. 

The infelicities of marriage are not to be 
urged against its institution, as the miseries of 
life would prove, equally, that life cannot be the 
gift of heaven. — Ibid, p. 169. 

Marriage is not commonly unhappy but as 
life is unhappy ; — and most of those who com- 
plain of connubial miseries, have as much satis- 
faction as their natures would have admitted, or 
their conduct procured, in any other condition. 
^^ — Rambler, v. 1. 

When we see the avaricious and crafty tak- 
ing companions to their tables and their beds, 
without any enquiry but after farms and money ; 
or the giddy and thoughtless uniting themselves 
for life, to thosy whom they have only seen by 
the light of tap'^rs; when parents make articles 
for children without enquiring after their con- 
sent ; when some marry for heirs to disappoint 
their brothers ; and others throw themselves in- 
to the arms of those whom they do not love, 
because they r^ive found themselves rejected 
17 



194 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON^ 

where they were more solicitous to please ; 
when some marry because their servants cheat 
them ; some because they squander their own 
money ; some because their houses are pes- 
tered with company ; some because they will 
live like other people : and some because they 
are sick of themselves,, we are not so much in- 
clined to wonder that marriage is sometimes 
unhappy, as that it appears so little loaded with 
calamity ; and cannot but conclude, that socie- 
ty has something in itself eminently agreeable 
to human nature, wlien we find its pleasures so 
great, that even tlie ill-choice of a companion 
can hardly over balance them. — Those, there- 
fore, of the above description, that should rail 
against matrimony, should be informed, that 
they are neither to wonder, or repine, that a 
contract begun on such principles, has ended 
in disappointment.—- /6i^. 

Men generally pass the first weeks of matri- 
mony, like those who consider themselves as 
taking the last draught of pleasure, and resolve 
not to quit the bowl without a surfeit. — Ibid. 

Marriage should be considered as the most 
solemn league of perpetual friv^idship ; a state 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 195 

from which artifice and concealment are to be 
banished for ever ; and in which every act of 
dissimulation is a breach of faith. — Ibid. 

A poet may praise many whom he w^ould be 
afraid to marry, and, perhaps, marry one whom 
he would have been asham 'd to praise. Many 
qualiiies contribute to domestic happiness, up- 
on which poetry has no colours to bestow, and 
many airs and sallies may delight imagination, 
which h(3 who flatters them, never can approve. 
There are charms made only for distant admi- 
ration — no spectacle is nobler than a blaze. — 
Life of Waller. 

EARLY MARRIAGES. 
From early marriages proceeds the rivalry 
ol parents and children. The son is eager to 
enjoy the world, before the father is willing to 
forsake it ; and there is hardly room at once 
for two generations. The daughter begins to 
bloom, before the mother can be content to 
fade; and neither can forbear to wish for the 
absence of the other. — Prince oj Abyssinia. 

LATE MARRIAGES. 

Those who marry late in life, will find it 
dangerous to suspend their fate upon each other, 



196 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 

at a time when opinions are fixed, and habits 
are established ; when friendships have been 
contracted on both sides ; when life has been 
planned into niethod, and the mind has long en.- 
joj^ed the contemplation of its own prospects* 
They will probably escape the encroachment 
of their children ; but, in diminution of this ad- 
vantage, they will be likely to leave them, ig- 
norant and helpless, to a guardian's mercy ; or 
if that should not happen, ihey must, at least, 
go out of the world, before they see those whom 
they love best, either wise or great :— From 
their children, if they have less to fear, they 
havealso less to hope; and they lose, without 
equivalent, the joys of early love, and the con- 
venience of uniting with manners pliant, and 
minds susceptible of new impressions, which 
might wear away their dissimilitudes by long 
cohabitation, as soft bodies, by continual attri- 
tion, conform their surfaces to each other. — 
Prince of Abyssinia, 

COMPARISON BETWEEN EARLY AND LATE 
MARRIAGES. 

It will be generally found, that those who 
marry late are best pleased with their children ; 
and those who marry early^ with their partners* 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 197 

MALICE. 
We shonlcl not despi e the malice of the 
weakest. We should remember, that venom 
supplies tlie want of strengih ; and that the lion 
may perish by tlie puncture of an asp.— -Ucf??i- 
hler, V. 4. 

The natural discontent of inferiority will sel- 
dom fail to operate, in some degree of malice, 
against him who professes to superintend the 
conduct of others, especially if he seats himself 
uncalled in the chair of judicature, and exer- 
cises authority by his own commission.— /cZ'er, 

MAN. 
Man's study of himself, and the knowledge 
of his own station in the ranks of being, and his 
various relations to the innumerable mnliitudes 
which surround him, and with which his maker 
has ordained him to be united, for the recep- 
tion and communication of happiness, should 
begin with the first glimpse of reason, and only 
end with life itself. Other acquisitions are 
merely temporary benefiis, except as they con- 
tribute to illustrate the knowledge, and confirm 
the practice, of morality and piety, which ex- 
tend their influence beyond the grave, and ei> 
17^ 



198 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

crease our happiness through encfiess duration* 
— Prfface to the Preceptor, 

MANNERS. 
The manners of a people are not to be found 
in the schools of learning, or the palaces of 
greatness, where the national character As 
obscured, or obliterated by travel, or instruction, 
by philosophy, or vanity; nor is public happi- 
ness to be estimated by the assemblies of the 
gay, or th^ banquets of the rich. The great 
mass of nations is neither rich nor gay. They 
whose aggregate constitutes the people, are 
found in the streets and the villages; in the 
shops and farms ; and from them, collectively 
considered, must the measure of general pro^ 
perity be taken. As they approach to delicacy, 
a nation is refined ; as their conveniences are 
multiplied, a nation, at least a commercial na- 
tion, must be denominated wealthy. — fVestern 
Islands. 

Such manners as depend upon standing re- 
lations and general passions, are co-extended 
with the race of man ; but those modifications 
of life, and peculiarities of practice, which are 
the progeny of error and perverseness, or at 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 199 

best of some accidental influence, or transient 
persuasion, must perish with their parents. — 
Life of Butler. 



MADNESS. 
It is very common for madmen to catch an 
accidental hint, and strain it to the purpose 
predominant in their minds. Hence Shakspeare 
makes Lear pick up a flock, who from this 
immediately thinks to surprise his enemies by a 
troop of horse shod with flocks, or felt. — JVotes 
upon Shakspeare, v. 9. 



MEANNESS. 
An infallible characteristic of meanness is 
cruelty. — False Alarm. 

MERCHANT. 
No mercantile man, or mercantile nation, has 
any friendship but for money; and alliance 
between them will last no longer than their 
common safety, or common profit is endangered ; 
no longer than they have an enemy who threat- 
ens to take from each more than either can 
steal from the other. — Political State of Great 
Britain. 



200 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

A merchant's desire is not of glory, but of 
gain ; not of public weahh, but of private emol- 
ument; he is therefore rarely to be consulted 
about war and peace, or any designs of wide 
extent and distant consequence. — Taxation no 
Tyranny. 

MEMORY. 
It may be observed that w^e are apt to promise 
to ourselves a more lasting memory than the 
changing state of human things admits —late 
events obliterate the former — the civil wars have 
left in this nation scarcely any tradition of more 
ancient history. — JYotes upon Shakspeare, v. 6. 

We suffer equal pain from the pertinacious 
adhesion of unwelcome images, as from the 
evanescence of those which are pleasing and 
useful; and it may be doubted, whether we 
should be more benefited by the art of memory, 
or the art of forgetfulness. — Idler j v. 2. 

Forgetfulness is necessary to remembrance. 
—Ibid. 

To forget, or to remember at pleasure, are 
€qually beyond the power of man. Yet, as 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 201 

memory may be assisted by method, and the 
decays of knowledge repaired by stated times 
of recollection, so the power of forgetting is 
capable of improvement. Reason will, by a 
resolute contest, prevail over imagination ; an d 
the power may be obtained of transferring the 
attention as judgment shall direct. — Ibid, 

Memory is like all other human powers, with 
which no man can be satisfied who measures 
them by what he can conceive, or by what he 
can desire. He, therefore, that after the peru- 
sal of a book, finds few ideas remaining in his 
mind, is not to consider the disappointment as 
peculiar to himself, or to resign all hopes of im- 
provement, because he does not retain what 
even the author has, perhaps, forgotten. — Ibid. 

The true art of memory is the art of attention. 
No man will read with much advantage, who 
is not able, at pleasure, to evacuate his mind, 
and who brings not to his author an intellect 
defecated and pure ; neither turbid with care, 
nor agitated with pleasure. If the repositories 
of thought are already full, what can they 
receive? If the mind is employed on the past, 
or future, the book will be held before the eyes 
in yd\u.—Ibid. 



202 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

MIND. 

An envious and unsocial niind, too proud 
to give pleasure and too sullen to receive it, al- 
ways endeavours to hide its malignity from the 
world and from itself — under the plainness of 
simple honesty, or the dignity of haughty inde- 
pendence. — JVotes upon Shakspeare, v. 2. 

MINUTENESS. 
The parts of the greatest things are little ; 
what is litde can be but pretty, and by claim- 
ing dignity, becomes ridiculous. — Life of Cow^ 
ley. 

MISERY. 
If misery be the effect of virtue, it ought to 
be reverenced ; if of ill fortune, it ought to be 
pitied ; and if of vice, not to be insulted ; be- 
cause it is, perhaps, itself a punishment ade- 
quate to the crime by which it was produced ; 
and the liumaniiy of that man can deserve no 
panegyric, who is capable of reproaching a 
criminal in the hands of the executioner. — Life 
of Savage. 

That misery does not make all virtuous, ex- 
perience too certainly informs us ; but it is no 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 203 

less certain, that of what virtue there is, misery 
produces far the greater part. Physical evil 
may be therefore endured with paiience, since 
it is the cause of mor;J good ; and patience it- 
self is one virtue by which we are prepared for 
that state in which evil shall be no more. — Idler. 

The misery of man proceeds not from any 
single crusli of overwhehning evil, but from 
small vexations continually repeated. — Life of 
Pope, 

MIRTH. 

Merriment is always the effect of a sudden 
im[)ression ; the jest wliich is expected is al- 
ready destrojed. — Idler, 

Any passion, too strongly agitated, puts an 
end to that tranquillity which is necessary to 
mirth. Whatever we ardently wish to gain, 
we must, in the same degree, be afraid to lose ; 
and fear and pleasure cannot dwell together. — 
Rambler. 

MONEY. 
To mend the world by banishing money is 
an old contrivance of those who did not consid- 



204 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

er that the quarrels and mischiefs which arise 
from money as the sign, or ticket of riches, 
must, if money were to cease, arise immedi- 
ately from riches themselves, and could never 
be at an end till every man was contented with 
his own share of the goods of life. — JVotes up- 
on Shakspeare. 

NATURE. 

Nothing can please many, and please long, 
but just representations of general nature. — - 
Preface to Shakspeare. 

The power of nature is only the power of 
using, to any certain purpose, the materials 
which diligence procures, or opportunity sup- 
plies.— iJzc?. 



ENGLISH NABOBS, &c. 
Those who make an illegal use of power in 
foreign countries, to enrich themselves and 
dependents, live with hearts full of that ma- 
lignity which fear of detection always gener- 
ates in them, who are to defend unjust acquisi- 
tions against lawful authority ; and when they 
come home with riches thus acquired, they 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 205 

bring minds hardened in evil ; too proud for 
reproof, and too stupid for reflection. — They 
offend the high by their insolence, and corrupt 
the low by their exannples. — Falkland Islands. 

NEGLIGENCE. 

No man can safely do that by others, which 
might be done by himself. He that indulges 
negligence, will quickly become ignorant of his 
own affairs ; and he that trusts without reserve, 
will at last be deceived. — Rambler. 

NOVELTY. 

To oblige the most fertile genius to say only 
what is new, would be to contract his volumes 
to a few pages. — Idler. 

OPINION. 
The opinions prevalent in one age, as truths 
above the reach of controversy, are confuted 
and rejected in another, and rise again to 
reception in remoter times. Thus, the hu- 
man mind is kept in motion without pro- 
gress. Thus, sometimes truth and error, 
and sometimes contrarieties of error take each 
other's place by reciprocal invasion. — Preface 
to Shakspeare. 

18 



206 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON". 

Much of the pain and pleasure of mankhid 
arises from the conjectures which every one 
makes of the thoughts of others. We all enjoy 
praise which we do not hear, and resent con- 
tempt which we do not see. — Idler. 

OPPORTUNITY. 
To improve the golden moment of opportu- 
nity, and catch the good that is within our 
reach, is the great art of life. Many wants 
are suffered which might have once been sup- 
plied, and much time is lost in regretting; the 
time which had been lost before. — The Patriot. 

He that waits for an opportunity to do much 
at once, may breathe out his life in idle wishes, 
and regret, in the last hour, his useless inten- 
tions and barren zeal. — Id'er. 

OATHS. 

Rash oaths, whether kept or broken, fre- 
quently produce guilt. — JVotes upon Shaks- 
peare. 

PATRIOT. 
A patriot is he, whose public conduct is reg- 
ulated by one single motive, viz, the love oj 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 207 

his country ; who, as an agent, in parliament, 
has for liimself, neillier liope, nor fear ; neither 
kin(]ness, nor lesentment ; but refers every 
thing to tlie co nmon interest.— -TAe Patriot. 

PARENTS. 
In general, those parents ha^^e most rever- 
ence, who most deserve it ; for he that lives 
well cannot be despised. — Prince of Abyssinia. 

PASSl/^N. 
The adventitious peculiarities of personal hab- 
its are only superficial dies, bright and pleasing 
for a while, yet soon fading to a dim tint, with- 
out any remains of former lustre. But the 
discriiuinaiioi^s of true passion are the colours 
of nature; they pervade the whole mass, and 
can only perish with the body that exhibits 
them.'— Preface to Shakspeare. 

Passion, in its first violence, controls interest, 
as the eddy, for a while, runs again^^t the 
stream. — Taxation no Tyranny. 

PAIN. 

Pain is less subject than pleasure to caprices 
of expression.— JJ/er. 



208 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

PATRONAGE. 
A man conspicuous in a high station, who 
multiplies hopes, that he may multiply depen- 
dents, may be considered as a beast of prey. — 
Idler. 

To solicit patronage is, at least, in the event, 
to set virtue to sale. None can be pleased 
without praise, and few can be praised without 
falsehood ; few can be assiduous without servil- 
ity, and none can be servile without corruption. 
— Rambler. 

PLEASURE. 
Whatever professes to benefit by pleasing, 
must please at once. What is perceived by 
slow degrees, may gratify us with the con- 
sciousness of improvement, but will never strike 
us with the sense of pleasure. — Life of Cowley. 

Pleasure is very seldom found where it is 
sought ; our brightest blazes of gladness are 
commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. 
The flowers which scatter their odours from 
time to time in the paths of life, grow up with- 
out culture from seeds scattered by chance,-— 
Idler. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 209 

The great source of pleasjure is variety. 
Unifonniiy must tire at last, though it be uni- 
formity of excellence. We love to expect, and 
when expectation is disappointed, or gratified, 
we want to be again expecting. — Life of Butler. 



PLEASURES OF LOCAL EMOTION. 
To abstract the mind from all local emotion, 
would be impossible, if it were endeavoured; 
and would be foolish if it were possible. — 
Whatever withdraws us from the power of our 
senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or 
the future predominate over the present, ad- 
vances us in the dignity of thinking beings. 
Far from me, and far from my friends, be such 
frigid philosophy, as may conduct us indifferent, 
and unmoved, over any ground which has been 
dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That 
man is little to be envied whose patriotism 
would not gain force upon the plains of Mara- 
thon, or whose piety would not grow warmer 
among the ruins of lona. — Western Islands, 

POETS AND POETRY. 
In almost all countries, the most ancient poets 
are considered as the best. Whether it be 
18=^ 



210 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

that every other kind of knowledge is an acqui- 
sition gradually attained, and poetry is a gift 
conferred at once; or that the first poetry of 
every nation surprised them as a novelty, and 
retained the credit by consent, which it re- 
ceived by accident at first ; or whether, as the 
province of poetry is to describe nature and 
passion, which are always the same, the first 
writers took possession of the most striking 
objects for description, and the most probable 
occurrences for fiction, and left nothing to those 
that followed them, but transcription of the 
same events, and new combinations of the same 
images. Whatever be the reason, it is com- 
monly observed, that the early writers are in 
possession oi nature^ and their followers of ar^. 
Prince of Abyssinia. 

Compositions, merely pretty, have the fate 
of other pretty things, and are quitted in time 
for some thing useful. They are flowers 
fragrant and fair, but of short duration ; or 
they are blossoms, only to be valued as 
they foretell fruits. — Life of Waller, 

Poetical devotion cannot often please. A 
poet may describe the beauty and grandeur of 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 211 

nature , the flowers of the spring, and the 
harvests of the autumn, the vicissitudes of the 
tide, and the revolution of the sky, and praise 
the Maker for his works in hues which no 
reader shall lay aside, but the subject of the 
description is not God^ but the works of God. 
From poetry the reader expects, and from 
good poetry always obtains, the enlargement of 
his comprehension, and elevation of his fancy ; 
but this is rarely to be hoped by Christians 
from metrical devotion. Whatever is great, 
desirous, or tremendous, is comprised in the 
name of the Supreme Being. Omnipotence 
cannot be exalted. Infinity cannot be amplified. 
Perfection cannot be improved.— /6zc?. 

It is a general rule in poetry, that all appro- 
priated terms of art, should be sunk in general 
expressions ; because poetry is to speak an uni- 
versal language. This rule is still stronger 
with regard to arts, not liberal, or confined to 
few, and therefore far removed from common 
knowledge. — Life of Dry den. 

Though poets profess fiction, the legitimate 
end of fiction is the conveyance of truth, and 
he that has flattery ready for all whom the 



212 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

vicissitudes of the world happen to exalt, must be 
scorned as a prostituted nciind, that may retain 
the glitter of wit, but has lost the dignity of 
virtue. — Life of Waller. 

A mythological fable seldom pleases. The 
story we are accustomed to reject as false, and 
the manners are so distant from our own, that 
we know them not by sympathy, but by study. 
JJfe of Smith. 

No poem should be long, of which the 
purpose is only to strike the fancy, without en- 
lightening the understanding by precept, ratio- 
cination, or narrative.— A blaze first pleases, 
and then tires the sight — Life of Fentcn. 

After all the refinements of sublility, and 
the dogmatism of learning, all claim to poetical 
honours must be finally decided by the com- 
mon sense of readers, uncorrupted with literary 
prejudices. — Life of Gray. 

It does not always happen that the success 
of a poet is proportionate to his labour. The 
same observation may be extended to all works 
of imagination, which are often influenced by 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 



213 



causes wholly out of the performer's power, by 
the hints of which he perceives not the origin, by 
sudden elevations of mind which he cannot 
produce in himself, and which sometimes rise 
when he expects them least. — Dissertation on 
Pope^s Epitaphs. 

POVERTY. 

Poverty has, in large cities, very different 
appearances. It is often concealed in splendor, 
and often in extravagance. It is the care of a 
very great part of mankind to conceal their in- 
digence from the rest. They support them- 
selves by temporary expedients, and every 
day is lost in contriving for to-morrow. — Prince 
of Abyssinia. 

It is the great privilege of poverty to be hap- 
py unenvied, to be healthful without physic, 
and secure without a guard. To obtain from 
the bounty of nature what the great and weal- 
thy are compelled to procure by the help of 
artists, and the attendance of flatterers and 
spies. — Ramb'er. 

There are natural reasons why poverty does 
not easily conciliate. He that has been con* 



214 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

fined from his infancy to the conversation of the 
lowest classes of mankind, must necessarily 
want those accomplishments which are the 
usual means of attracting fivour ; and though 
truth, fortitude, and probity give an indisputa- 
ble right to reverence and kindness, they will 
not be distinguished by common eyes, unless 
they are brightened by elegance of manners, 
but are cast aside, like unpolished gems, of 
which none but the artist knows the intrinsic 
value, till their asperities are smoothed, and 
their incrustations rubbed away. — Ibid. 

Nature makes us poor, only when we want 
necessaries, but custom gives tJie name of pov- 
erty to the want of superfluities. —Idler. 

In a long continuance of poverty, it cannot 
well be expected that any character should be 
exactly uniform. There is a degree of want, 
by which the freedom of agency is almost de- 
stroyed ; and long associations with fortuitous 
companions, will, at last, relax the strictness of 
truth, and abate the fervor of sincerity. — Of 
such a man, it is surely some degree of praise 
to say, that he preserved the source of action 
unpolluted ; that his principles were never sha- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 215 

ken ; that his distinctions of right and wrong 
were never confounded, and that his faults had 
nothing of malignity, or design, but proceeded 
from some unexpected pressure, or casual 
temptation. A man doubtful of his dinner, or 
trembling at a creditor, is not much disposed to 
abstracted meditation, or remote enquiries. — 
Life of Collins. 

POVERTY AND IDLENESS. 

To be idle and to be poor have always been 
reproaches, and therefore every man endeavors, 
with his utmost care, to hide his poverty from 
others, and his idleness from himself. — Idler, 

POLITICS. 
Political truth is equally in danger from the 
praises of courtiers, and the acclamation of pa- 
triots. — Life of Wa'ler. 

It is convenient, in the conflict of factions, 
to have that disaffection known, which cannot 
safely be punished. — Ibid. 

He that changes his party by his humour, is 
not more vir'.uous, than he that changes it by 



216 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

his interest. He loves himself rather than 
truth. — Life of Milton. 

Faction seldom leaves a man honest, howev- 
er it might find him, — Ibid, 

A wise minister should conclude, that the 
flight of every honest man is a loss to the com- 
munity. That those who are unhappy without 
guilt, ought to be relieved ; and the life which 
is over-burthened by accidental calamities, set 
at ease by the care of the public ; and that 
those who by their misconduct have forfeited 
their claim to favour, ought rather to be made 
useful to the society which they have injured, 
than be driven from it. — Life of Savage. 

There is reason to expect that as the world 
is more enlightened, policy and morality will at 
last be reconciled, and that nations will learn 
not to do what they would not suffer. — Faik- 
land Islands. 

The power of a political treatise depends 
much on the disposition of the people. When 
a nation is combustible, a spark will set it on 
fire. — Life of Swift. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 217 

When a political design has ended in miscar- 
riage, or success; when every eye and every 
ear is witness to general discontent, or general 
satisfaction, it is then a proper time to disen- 
tangle confusion, and illustrate obscurity ; to 
shew by what causes every event was produced, 
and in what effects it is likely to terminate ; to 
lay down with distinct particularity what rumor 
always huddles in general exclamations, or 
perplexes by undigested narratives ; to shew 
whence happiness, or calamity is derived, and 
whence it may be expected, and honestly to 
lay before the people, what enquiry can gather 
of the past, and conjecture can estimate of the 
future. — Observations on the State of Affairs 
in 1756. 

PRAISE. 
Praise, like gold and diamonds, owes its val- 
ue only to its scarcity. It becomes cheap as it 
becomes vulgar, and will no longer raise expec- 
tation, or animate enterprise. It is, therefore, 
not only necessary that wickedness, even when 
it is not safe to censure it, be denied applause, 
but that goodness be commended only in pro- 
portion to its degree ; and that the garlands due 
the great benefactors of mankind, be not sufFer- 
19 



218 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

ed to fade upon the brow of him, who can 
boast only petty services and easy virtues. — 
Rambler. 

The real satisfaction which praise can afford, 
is when what is repeated aloud agrees with 
the whispers of conscience, by shewing us that 
we have not endeavored to deserve well in 
vain. — Ibid, 



Praise is so pleasing to the mind of man, that 
is the origina" 
tions. — Rambler, 



it is the original motive of almost all our ac 



They who are seldom gorged to the full with 
praise, may be safely fed with gross compli- 
ments ; for the appetite must be satisfied be- 
fore it is disgusted. — Ibid, 

That praise is w^orth nothing of which the 
price is known. — Life of Wal er. 

Every man willingly gives value lo the praise 
which he receives, and considers the sentence 
passed in his favour as the sentence of discern- 
ment. We admire in a friend that understand- 
ing which selected us for confidence.We ad- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 219 

mire more in a patron that judgment, which in- 
stead of scattering bounty indiscriminate!)', di- 
rected it to us : and those performances which 
gratitude forbids us to blame, affection will ea- 
sily dispose us to exalt. — Life of Halifax. 

To be at once in any great degree loved and 
praised is truly rare. — JYotes upon Shakspeare, 

PRIDE. 
Small things make mean men proud. — Pre- 
face to Shakspeare. 

Pride is a vice, which pride itself inclines 
every man to find in others, and to overlook in 
himself. — Life of Sir T. Browne. 

PRIDE AND ENVY. 
Pride is seldom delicate, it will please itself 
with very mean advantages ; and envy feels 
not its own happiness, but when it may be 
compared with the misery of others. — Prince 
of Abyssinia. 

COMPARISON BETWEEN A DRAMATIC 
POET AND A STATESMAN. 

Distrest alike the statesman with the wit, 
When one a Borough courts — and one the Pit ; 



220 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

The busy candidates for power and fame 
Have hopes and fears and wishes just the same :: 
Disabled both to combat or to fly, 
Must hear all taunts, and hear vnthout reply : 
Uncheck'd, on both loud rabbles vent their rage, 
As mongrels bay the lion in the cage. 
Th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale 
For that blest year when all that vote may rail ; 
Their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss 
Till that glad night when all that hate may hiss. 
This day the powdered curls and golden coat, 
Says swelling Crispin, begged a cobler's vote. 
This night our wit, the pert apprentice cries. 
Lies at my feet ; I hiss him and he dies ; 
The great, 'tis true, can damn th' electing tribe, 
The bard can only supplicate — not bribe. 

Prologue to the Good-natured Man* 



PRAYER, {its proper Objects,) 
Petitions yet remain 



Which Heaven may hear, nor deem Religion vain ; 

Still raise for good the supplicating voice. 

But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice ; 

Safe in His power whose eyes discern afar 

The secret ambush of a specious prayer, 

Implore his aid, in his decisions rest. 

Secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best. 

Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires. 
And strong devotion to the skies aspires, 
Pour forth thy fervors for a healthful mind, 
Oledient passions, and a will resigned ; 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 221 

For Love, which scarce collective man can fill, — 
For Patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill, — 
For Faith, that, panting for a happier seat, 
Counts Death kind Nature's signal for retreat. 
These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain, 
These goods He grants who grants the pow'r to gain ; 
With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind. 
And makes the happiness she does not find. 

Vanity of Human Wishes. 

PROSPERITY. 

Prosperity, as is truly asserted by Seneca, 
very much obstructs the knowledge of ourselves. 
No man can form a just estimate of his own 
powers, by inactive speculation. That forti- 
tude which has encountered no dangers, that 
prudence which has surmounted no difficulties, 
that integrity which has been attacked by no 
temptations, can at best be considered but as 
gold not yet brought to the test, of which there- 
fore the true value cannot be assigned. Equal- 
ly necessary is some variety of fortune to a 
nearer inspection of the manners, principles 
and affections of mankind. — Rambler, 

Moderation in prosperity, is a virtue very 
difficult to all mortals. — Memoirs of the King 
of Prussia. 

19^ 



222 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

PEEVISHNESS. 

Peevishness, though sometimes it^arises from 
old age, or the consequence of some misery, 
is frequently one of the attendants on the pros- 
perous, and is employed by insolence, in ex- 
acting homage ; or by tyranny, in harrassing 
subjection. It is the offspring of idleness, or 
pride ; of idleness, anxious for trifles, or pride, 
unwilling to endure the least obstruction of her 
wishes. Such is the consequence of peevish- 
ness ; it can be borne only when it is despised. 
— Rambler. 

It is not easy to imagine a more unhappy 
condition than that of dependence on a fpeev- 
ish man. In every other state of inferiority, 
the certainty of pleasing is perpetually increased 
by a fuller knowledge of our duty, and kind- 
ness and confidence are strengthened by every 
new act of trust,"^ and proof of fidelity. But 
peevishness sacrifices to a momentary offence 
the obsequiousness, or usefulness, of half a life, 
and as more is performed, encreases her ex- 
actions. — Ibid. 

Peevishness is generally the vice of narrow 
minds, and except when it is the effect of an- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 223 

gulsh and disease, by which the resolution is 
broken, and the mind made too feeble to bear 
the h'ghtest addiiion to its miseries, proceeds 
from an unreasonable persuasion of the impor- 
tance of trifles. The proper remedy against it 
is, to consider the dignity of human nature, 
and the folly of suffering perturbation and un- 
easiness from causes unworthy of our notice. 
- — Ibid. 

PEOPLE. 
No people can be great who have ceased to 
be virtuous. — Political State of Great Britain* 

The prosperity of a people is proportionate 
to the number of hands and minds usefully em- 
ployed. To the community, sedition is a fever, 
comiption is a gangrene, and idleness an atro- 
phy. Whatever body, and whatever society 
wastes more than it requires, must gradually 
decay ; and every being that continues to be 
fed, and ceases to labour, takes away something 
from the public stock. — Id'.er, 

Great regard should be paid to the voice of 
the people in cases where knowledge has been 
forced upon them by experience, without long 



224 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

deductions, or deep researches. — Ramhler^ 
vol. 1. 



PEDANTRY. 
It is as possible to become pedantic by fear 
of pedantry, as to be troublesome by ill-timed 
civility. — Ramble?^, v. 4. 

PUNCTUALITY. 
Punctuality is a quality which the interest of 
mankind requires to be diffused through all the 
ranks of life, but which many seem to consider 
as a vulgar and ignoble virtue, below the am- 
bition of greatness, or attention of wit, scarcely 
requisite amongst men of gaiety and spirit, and 
sold at its highest rate, when it is sacrificed to 
a frolic or a jest.— -Rambler, v. 4. 

PRUDENCE. 
Prudence is of more frequent use than any 
other intellectual quality ; it is e^terted on slight 
occasions, and called into act by the cursory 
business of common life. — Idler, v. 2. 

Prudence operates on life in the same man- 
ner as rules on composition ; it produces vigi- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 225 

lance rather than elevation, rather prevents loss 
than procures advantage, and often escapes mis- 
carriages, but seldom reaches either power, or 
honour. — Ibid. 



PRUDENCE AND JUSTICE, 

Aristotle is praised for naming fortitude first 
of the cardinal virtues, as that without which no 
other virtue can steadily be practised : but he 
might, with equal propriety, have placed pru- 
dence diud justice before it; since without pru- 
dence, fortitude is mad, without justice it is 
mischievous, — Life of Pope. 



PREJUDICE. 

To be prejudiced is always to be weak, yet 
ihere are prejudices so near to being laudable, 
that they have been often praised, and are al- 
ways pardoned, — Taxation no Tyranny. 

PRACTICE. 

In every ^rt^ practice is much ; in arts man- 
ual, practice is almost the whole ; precept can 
at most but warn against error, it can never be- 
gtow excellence. — Life of Roger Ascham. 



226 MAXIMS OF JOHNSONr 

PEACE. 

Peace is easily made, when it is necessary 
to both parties. — Memoirs of the King of Prus- 
sia. 

PIETY. 

Piety is elevation of mind towards the Su- 
preme Being, and extension of the thought to 
another life. The other life is future, and the 
Supreme Being is invisible. None would have 
recourse to an invisible power, but that all other 
subjects had eluded their hopes. None would 
fix their attention upon the future, but that they 
are discontented with the present. If the sen- 
ses were feasted with perpetual pleasure, they 
would always keep the mind in subjection. 
Reason has no authority over us, but by its pow- 
er to warn us against evil. — Idler ^ y. 2, 



PERFECTION. 
To pursue perfection in any science, where 
perfection is unattainable, is like the first inhab- 
itants of Arcadia, to chace the sun, which when 
they had reached the hill where he seemed to 
rest, was still beheld at the same distance from 
them. — Life of Waller. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 227 

It seldom happens that all the necessary cau- 
ses concur to any great effect. Will is wanting 
to power, or power to will, or both are impeded 
by external obstructions. — Life of Dry den. 

An imperial crown cannot be one continued 
diamond, the gems must be held together by 
some less valuable matter. — IbicL 



PERFIDY. 
Combinations of wickedness would over- 
whelm t'le world, by the advantage which licen- 
tious principles afford, did not those who have 
long practised perfidy, grow faithless to each 
other. — Life of Waller. 

PERSEVERANCE. 
No terrestrial greatness is more than an ag- 
gregate of little things ; and, to inculcate after 
the Arabian proverb, ''drops added to drops 
constitute the ocean." — Plan zf an Eng. Diet, 

All the performances of human art, at which 
we look with praise, or wonder, are instances 
of the resistless force of perseverance. It is by 
this that the quarry becomes a pyramid, and 
that distant countries are united by canals ; it 



223 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

is therefore of the utmost importance that those 
who have any intention of deviating from the 
beaten roads of life^ and acquiring a reputa- 
tion superior to names hourly swept away by 
time among the refuse of fame, should add to 
their reason and their spirit, the power of persis- 
ting in their purposes J acquire the art of sap- 
ping what they cannot batter, and the habit of 
vanquishing obstinate resistance by obstinate 
attacks. — Rambler, 

PRODIGALITY. 
He seldom lives frugally, who lives by chance^ 
Hope is always liberal, and they that trust her 
promises, make little scruple of revelling to-day 
on the profits of to-morrow. — Life of Dryden. 

PATIENCE. 

If what we suffer has been brought on us by 
ourselves, (it is observed by an ancient poet,) 
patience is en^^j.^ently our duty, since no one 
ought to be angry at feeling that which he has 
deserved. If we are conscious that we have 
not contributed to our own sufferings, if punish- 
ment falls upon innocence, or disappointment 
happens to industry and prudence, patience. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 229 

whether more necessary or not, is much easier, 
since our pain is then without aggravation, and 
we have not the bitterness of remorse to add to 
the asperity of nmhnune,— Rambler, 

In those evils which are allotted us by Prov- 
idence, such as deformity, privation of any of 
the senses, or old age, it is always to be re- 
membered, that impatience can have no pres- 
ent effect but to deprive us of the consolations 
which our condition admits, by driving away 
from us those, by whose conversation, or ad- 
vice, we might be amused, or helped ; and that 
with regard to futurity, it is yet less to be justi- 
fied, since without lessening the paid, it cuts off 
th^ hope of that reward, which He, by whom it 
is inflicted, v/ill confer upon them that bear it 
well. — Ibid. 

In all evils which admit a remedy, impa- 
tience is to be avoided, because it wastes that 
time and attention in complaints, that, if prop- 
erly applied, might remove ihJ'cnuse.— Ibid. 

PITY. 

Pity is to many of the unhappy a source of 
comfort in hopeless distresses, as it contributes 
20 



230 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

to recommend them to themselves, by proving 
that they have not lost the regard of others ; 
and heaven seems to indicate the duty even of 
barren compassion, by inclining us to weep for 
evils which we cannot remedy. — Rambler ^ v. 2, 



PHILOSOPHY. 
One of the chief advantages derived by the 
present generation from the improvement and 
diffusion of philosophy, is deliverance from un- 
necessary terrors, and exemption from false 
alarms. The unusual appearances, whether 
regular or accidental, which once spread con- 
sternation over ages of ignorance, are now the 
recreations of inquisitive security. The sun is 
no more lamented when it is eclipsed, than 
when it sets, and meteors play their corrusca- 
tions without prognostic, or prediction. — False 
Alarm, 

PHYSICIAN. 

A physician in a great city, seems to be the 
mere plaything of fortune ; his degree of repu- 
tation is for the most part totally casual. They 
that employ him, know not his excellence ; they 
that reject him, know not his deficience. By 



MAXIMS OE JOHNSON. 23 1 

an accurate observer, who had looked on the 
transactions of the medical world for half a cen- 
tury, a very curious book might be written on 
the fortune of physicians. — Life of Akmside. 

PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS. 

Nothing is so proper as the frequent publica- 
tion of short papers, (like the Tailers, Spec- 
tators, &;c.) which we read, not as a study, but 
amusement. If the subject be slight, the treatise 
is likewise short. The busy may. find time, 
and the idle may find patience. — Life of Ad- 
dison. 

RAILLERY. 
He who is in the exercise of raillery should 
prepare himself to receive it in turn. "When 
Lewis the XIV. was asked why with so much 
wit he never attempted raillery, he answ^esed, 
that he who practised raillery, ought to bear 
it in his turn, and that to stand the butt of 
raillery was not suitable to the dignity of a King. 
• — JYotes upon Shakspcare^ v. 5. 

RESOLUTION. 

When desperate ills demand a speedy cure, 
distrust is cowardice and prudence folly.— /ren^- 



■ 232 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

Resolotion and success reciprocally produce 
each other.— £?/e of Drake. 

Nothing will ever be attempted if all possible 
objections must be first overcome.— Prince of 
Abyssinia . 

Marshal Turenne^ among the acknowledge- 
ments which he used to pay in conversation to 
the memory of those by whom he had been in- 
structed in the art of war, mentioned one, with 
honor, who taught him not to spend his time in 
regretting any mistake ivhich he had made, but 
to set himself immediately and vigorously to 
repair it. Patience and submission should be 
carefully distinguished from cowardice and in- 
dolence ; we are not to repine, but we may 
lawfully struggle; for the calamities of life^ like 
the necessities of nature, are calls to labour^ 
and exercises of diligence.-—i?amWer, v. 1, 

Some firmness and resolution is necessary to 
the discharge of duty, but that is a very unhappy 
state of life in which the necessity of such 
struggles frequently occurs ; for no man is 
defeated w^ithout some resentment, which will 
be continued wath obstinacy, while he believes 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 233 

liimself in the right, and exerted with bitterness, 
if, even to his own conviction, he is detected in 
the wrong. — Ibid^ v. 2, 

To have attempted much is always laudable, 
even when the enterprize is above the strength 
that undertakes it. To rest below his own aim, 
is incident to every one whose fancy is active, 
and whose views are comprehensive ; nor is any 
man satisfied with himself, because he has 
done much, but because he can conceive little. 
— Preface to Dictionary. 

There is nothing which we estimate so fal- 
laciously as the force of our own resolutions, 
nor any fallacy w^hich we so unwillingly and 
tardily detect. He that has resolved a thousand 
times, — and a thousand times deserted his pur- 
pose, yet suffers no abatement of his confidence, 
but still believes himself his own master, and 
able, by innate vigour of soul, to press forward 
to his end, through all the obstructions that in- 
conveniences or delights can put in his way. 

RELIGION. 

To be of no church, is dangerous. Religion, 
of which the rewards are distant, and which is 
20* 



234 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

animated only by faith and hope, will glide by 
degrees out of the mind, unless it be invigorated^ 
and re-impressed by external ordinances, by 
stated calls to worship, and the salutary influence 
of example. — Life of Milton. 

That conversion of religion will always be 
suspected, that apparently concurs with inter- 
est. He that never finds his error, till it hin- 
ders its progress towards wealth and honor, will 
not be thought to love truth only for herself. 
Yet it may happen, information may come at 
a commodious time, and as truth and interest 
are not by any fatal necessity at variance, that 
one may, by accident, introduce the other. — 
Life of Dry den. 

Philosophy may infuse stubbornness, but re- 
ligion only can give patience. — Idler. 

Malevolence to the clergy, is seldom at a 
great distance from irreverence to religion. — 
Life 0/ Dry den. 



RICHES. 
Poverty" is an evil always in our view 5 an 
evil complicated with so many circumstances of 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 235 

uneasiness and vexation, that every man is stu- 
dious to avoid it. Some degree of. riches 
therefore is required, that we may be exempt 
from the gripe of necessity. When this pur- 
pose is once attained, we naturally wish for 
more, that the evil, which is regarded with so 
much horror, may be yet at a greater distance 
from us ; as he that has at once felt, or dread- 
ed the paw of a savage, will not be at rest till 
they are parted by some barrier, which may 
take away all possibility of a second attack. — 
Rambler^ v. 1 . 

Whoever shall look heedfully upon those who 
are eminent for their riches, will not think their 
condition such as that he should hazard his qui- 
et, and much less his virtue, to obtain it ; for 
all that great wealth generally gives above a 
moderate fortune, is more room for the freaks 
of caprice, and more privilege for ignorance 
and vice ; a quicker succession of flatteries, 
and a larger circle of voluptuousness. — Ram- 
bler^ V. 1. 

There is one reason, seldom remarked, which 
makes riches less desirable. Too much wealth 
is generally the occasion of poverty. He whom 



236 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

the wantonness of abundance has once softened, 
easily sinks into neglect of his affairs ; and he 
that thinks he can afford to be negligent, is not 
far from being poor. He will soon be involved 
in perplexities, which his inexperience will ren- 
der insurmountable : he will fly| for help to 
those whose interest it is that he should be more 
distressed ; and will be, at last, torn to pieces 
by the vultures that always hover over our for- 
tunes in decay.— i6z6?. 

Wealth is nothing in itself: it is not useful 
but when it departs from us 5 its value is found 
only in that which it can purchase, which, if we 
suppose it put to its best use, seems not much 
to deserve the desire, or envy, of a wise man. 
It is certain that, with regard to corporal enjoy- 
ment, money can neither open new avenues to 
pleasure, nor block up the passages of anguish. 
Disease and infirmity still continue to torture 
and enfeeble, perhaps exasperatedjby luxury, 
or promoted by sofiness.—Ibid. 

With regard to the mind,^! has rarely been 
observed, Ihat wealth contributes] much to 
quicken the discernment, ;enlarge the capacity, 
)r elevate the imagination; but may, by hiring 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 237 

flattery, or laying diligence asleep, confirm er- 
ror, or harden stupidity. Wealth cannot con- 
fer greatness ; for nothing can make that great, 
which the decree of nature has ordained to be 
little. The bramble may be placed in a hot- 
bed, but can never become an oak. — Even roy- 
alty itself is not able to give that dignity, which 
it happens not to find, but oppresses feeble 
minds, though it may elevate the strong. The 
world has been governed in the name of kings, 
w^hose existence has scarcely been perceived 
by any real effects beyond their own palaces. — 
When therefore the desire of wealth is 'taking 
hold of the heart, let us look round and see 
how it operates upon those whose industry, or 
fortune, has obtained it. When we find them 
oppressed with their own abundance, luxurious 
without pleasure, idle without ease, impatient 
and querulous in themselves, and despised or 
hated by the rest of mankind, we shall soon be 
convinced, that if the real wants of our condi- 
tion are satisfied, there remains little to be 
sought with solicitude, or desired with eager- 
ness. — Ibid. 

Though riches often prompt extravag^t 
hopes and fallacious appearances ; there are 



238 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

purposes to which a wise man may be delighted 
to apply them. They may, by a rational dis- 
tribution to those who want them, ease the pains 
of helpless disease, still the throbs of restless 
anxiety^ relieve innocence from oppression, and 
raise imbecility to cheerfulness and vigour. 
This they will enable a man to perform ; and 
this will afford the only happiness ordained for 
our present state, the consequence of divine^fa- 
vour, and the hope of future rewards. — Ram- 
bler^ y. 3. 

It is observed of gold by an old epigramma- 
tist, "that to have it, is to be in fear, and to want 
it, to be in sorrow." — Ibid. 

Every man is rich or poor, according to the 
proportion between his desires and enjoyments. 
Any enlargement of riches is therefore equally 
destructive to happiness with the diminution of 
possession ; and he that teaches another to 
long for what he shall never obtain, is no less 
an enemy to his quiet, than if he had robbed 
him of part of his patrimony. — Ibid^ v. 4. 

Whosoever rises above those who once plea- 
sed themselves with equality, will have many 



MAXIMS o:f JOHNSON. 239 

malevolent gazers at his eminence. To gain 
sooner than others that which all pursue with 
the same ardour, and to which all imagine 
themselves entitled, will for ever be a crime. 
When those who started with us in the race of 
life, leave us so far behind that we have little 
hope to overtake them, we revenge our disap- 
pointment by remarks on the arts of supplanta- 
tion by which they gained the advantage, or on 
the folly and arrogance with which they possess 
it ; of them whose rise we could not hinder, we 
solace ourselves by prognosticating the fall. 
Riches, therefore, perhaps do not so often pro- 
duce crimes, as incite accusers. — Ibid, 

It must, however, be confessed, that as all 
sudden changes are dangerous, a quick transi- 
tion from poverty to abundance can seldom be 
made with safety. He that has long lived with- 
in sight of pleasures which he could ncft reach, 
will need more than common moderation not to 
lose his reason in unbounded riot, when they are 
first put into his power. — Ibid, 

Of riches, as of every thing else, the hope is 
more then the enjoyment. Whilst we consider 
them as the means to be used at some future 



240 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

time for the attainment of felicity, we press on 
our pursuit ardently, and vigorously, and that 
ardor secures us from weariness of ourselves ; 
but no sooner do we sit dQwn to enjoy our ac- 
quisitions, than we find them insufficient to fill 
up the vacuities of life. — Idler, v. 2. 

COMPARISON BETWEEN RICHES AND UN- 
DERSTANDING. 

As many more can discover that a man is 
richer than themselves, superiority of under- 
standing is not so readily acknowledged, as that 
of fortune ; nor is that haughtiness, which the 
consciousness of great abilities incJ^ites, borne 
with the same submission as the tyranny of af- 
fluence. — 'Life of Savage. 

COMPARISON BETWEEN RICHES AND 
POWER. 

Power and wealth supply the place of each 
other. Power confers the ability of gratifying 
our desires without the consent of others ; 
wealth enables us to obtain the consent of 
others to our gratification. Power, simply con- 
sidered, wdiatever it confers on one, must take 
from another. Wealth enables its owner to 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 241 

give to others, by taking only from liimself. 
Power pleases the violent and the proud ; 
wealth delights the placid and the timorous. 
Youth therefore flies at power, and age grovels 
aft€r riches.— Western Islands. 



RIDICULE. 
The assertion of Shaftesbury, that ridicule is 
the test of truth, is foolish. If ridicule be ap- 
plied to any position as the test of truth, it will 
then become a question whether such ridicule 
be just, and this can only be decided by the 
application of truth, as the test of ridicule. Two 
men fearing, one a real, and the other a fan- 
cied danger, will be, for a while, equally ex- 
posed to the inevitable consequences of coward- 
ice, contemptuous censure, and ludicrous rep- 
resentation ; and the true estate of both cases 
must be known, before it can be decided 
whose terror is rational, and whose is ridicu- 
lous, who is to be pitied, and who to be des- 
pised. — jLi/eo/ Akenside. 

He that indulges himself in ridiculing the lit- 
tle imperfections and weaknesses of his friends, 
will, in time, find mankind united against him. 
21 



242 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON". 

The man who sees another ridiculed before 
him, though he may, for the present, concur in 
the general laugh, yet in a cool hour will con- 
sider the same trick might be played against 
himself; but when there is no sense of this 
danger, the natural pride of human nature rises 
against him, who, by general censures, lays 
claim to general superiority.- — Rambler^ v. 4, 

REFLECTION. 
It may be laid down as a position which will 
seldom deceive, that when a man cannot bear 
his own company, there is something wrong. 
He must fly from himself, either because he 
finds a tediousness in the equipoise of an empty 
mind, which having no tendency to one motion 
more than another, but as it is impelled by some 
external power, must always have recourse to 
foreign objects; or he must be afraid of the 
intrusion of some unpleasing ideas, and perhaps 
is struggling to escape from the remembrance 
of a loss, the fear of a calamity, or some other 
thought of greater horror. — Rambler, v. I. 

There are fewer higher gratifications than 
that of reflection on surmounted evils, when 
they were not incurred nor protracted by our 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 243 

fault, and neither reproach us with cowardice 
nor guilt. — Ibid^ v. 4. 

All useless misery is certainly folly, and he 
that feels evils before they come, may be de- 
servedly censured ; yet surely to dread the fu- 
ture, is more reasonable than to lament the past. 
The business of hfe is to go forward ; he who 
sees evil in prospect, meets it in his way ; but 
he who catches it by retrospection, turns back 
to find it.— Mer, v. 2. 

There is certainly no greater happiness than 
to be able to look back on a life usefully and 
virtuously employed ; to trace our own progress 
in existence, by such tokens as excite neither 
shame, nor sorrow. It ought therefore to be 
the care of those who wish to pass their last 
hours w^ith comfort, to lay up such a treasure of 
pleasing ideas, as shall support the expences of 
that time, which is to depend wholly upon the 
fund already acquired. — Rambler^ v. 1. 



REBELLION. - 
To bring misery on those who have not de- 
served it, is part of the aggregated guilt of 
rebellion. — Taxation no Tyranny, 



244 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 

Nothing can be more noxious to society, 
than that erroneous clemency, which, when a 
rebellion is suppressed, exacts no forfeiture, 
and establishes no securities, but leaves the 
rebels in their former state. — Ibid. 



REFINEMENT. 
He that pleases himself too much with minute 
exactness, and submits to endure nothing in 
accommodations, attendance, or address, below 
the point of perfection, will, whenever he 
enters the crowd of life, be harrassed with 
innumerable distresses, from which those who 
have not, in the same manner, increased 
their sensations, find no disturbance. His 
exotic softness will shrink at the coarseness 
of vulgar felicity, like a plant transplanted to 
Northern nurseries from the dews and sun- 
shine of tropical regions. It is well known, 
that, exposed to a microscope, the smoothest 
polish of the most solid bodies discovers cav- 
ities and prominences; and that the softest 
bloom of roseate virginity repels the eye with 
excresencies and discolorations. Thus the 
senses, as well as the perceptions, may be im- 
proved to our own disquiet ; and we may, by dil- 
igent cultivation of the powers of dislike, raise in 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 245 

time an artificial fastidiousness, which shall fill 
the imagination with- phantoms of turpitude, 
shew us the naked skeleton of every delight, 
and present us only with the pains of plea- 
sure, and the deformities of beauty. — Rambler. 

RECOLLECTION. 

That which is obvious, is not always known ; 
and what is known, is not always present. 
Sudden fits of inadvertency \v\\\ surprise vigi- 
lance ; slight avocations will seduce attention; 
and casual eclipses of the mind will darken 
learning; so that the writer shall often, in vain, 
trace memory at the moment of need, for that 
which yesterday he knew with intuitive read- 
iness, and which will come uncalled into his 
thoughts to-morrow. — Preface to Dictionary. 

RETIREMENT. 

There is a time when the claims of the public 
are satisfied ; then a man may properly retire 
to review his life, and purify his heart. — Prince 
of Abyssinia. 

Some suspensions of common affiiirs, some 
pause of temporal pain and pleasure, is doubt- 
21* 



246 MAXIMS OF JOHNSOK* 

less necessary to him that deliberates for 
eternity, who is forming the only plan in^.which 
miscarriage cannot be repaired, and examining 
the only question in which mistake- cannot be 
rectified.— i?a7725Zer, v. 3. 

RETALIATION. 
It is too common for those who have unjustly 
suffered pain, to inflict it likewise in their turn 
with the same injustice, and to imagine they 
have a right to treat others as they themselves 
have been treated. — Life of Savage. 

RELAXATION. 
After the exercises w^hich the health of the 
body requires, and which have themselves a 
natural tendency to actuate and invigorate the 
mind, the most eligible amusement of a rational 
being seems to be that interchange of thoughts 
which is practised in free and easy con- 
versation, where suspicion is banished by ex- 
perience, and emulation by benevolence; where 
every man speaks with no other restraint than 
unwillingness to offend, and hears with no 
other disposition than desire to be pleased.— 
RambJeVy v. 2. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 247 

REPENTANCE. 
Repentance is the change of the heart, from 
that of an evil, to a good disposition ; it is 
that disposition of mind by which ' the wicked 
man turnelh aw^ay from his wickedness, and 
doth that which is lawful and right ; ' and when 
this change is made, the repentance is complete. 
— Convicfs Address, 

Repentance, however difScult to be prac- 
tised, is, if it be explained without superstition, 
easily understood. Repentance is the relin- 
quishment of any practice^ from the conviction 
that it has offended God. Sorrow, and fear, 
and anxiety, are properly not parts, but ad- 
juncts of repentance ; yet they are too closely 
connected with it, to be easily separated : for 
they not only mark its sincerity, but promote 
its efficacy. 

No man commits any act of negligence or 
obstinacy, by which his safety or happiness in 
this world is endangered, w^ithout feeling the 
pungency of remorse. He who is fully con- 
vinced that he suffers by his own failure, can 
never forbear to trace back his miscarriage to 
its first cause, to image to himself a contrary 



248 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

behaviour, and to form involuntary resolutions 
against the like fault, even when he knows that 
he shall never again have the power of com- 
mitting it. Danger, considered as imminent, 
naturally produces such trepidations of impa- 
tience, as leave all human means of safety be- 
hind them : he that has once caught an alarm 
of terror, is every moment seized with useless 
'\nxieties, adding one security to another, trem- 
bling vv^ith sudden doubts, and distracted by the 
perpetual occurrence of new expedients. If, 
therefore, he whose crimes have deprived him 
of the favour of God, can reflect upon his con- 
duct without disturbance, or can at will banish 
the reflection ; if he who considers himself as 
suspended over the abyss of eternal perdition 
only by the thread of life, which must soon 
part by its own weakness, and which the wing 
of every minute may divide, can cast his eyes 
round him without shuddering with horror, or 
panting with security; what can he judge of 
himself, but that he is not yet awakened to suf- 
ficient conviction, since every loss is more la- 
mented than the loss of the divine favour, and 
every danger more dreaded than the danger of 
final condemnation }—Rambhr, v. 3. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 249 

The completion and sum of repentance is a 
change of life. That sorrow which dictates no 
caution, that fear which does not quicken our 
escape, that austerity which fails to rectify our 
affections, are vain and unavailing. But sor- 
row and terror must naturally precede reforma- 
tion ; for what other cause can produce it ? He, 
therefore, that feels himself alarmed by his con- 
science, anxious for the attainment of a better 
state, and afflicted by the memory of his past 
faults, may justly conclude, that the great work 
of repentance is begun, and hope by retirement 
and prayer, the natural and religious means of 
strengthening his conviction, to impress upon 
his mind such a sense of the divine presence, 
as may overpower the blandishments of secu- 
lar delights, and enable him to advance fram 
one degree of holiness to another, till death 
shall set liim free from doubt and contest, mis- 
ery and temptation. 

What better can we do than prostrate fall 
Before Him reverent, — and there confess 
Humbly our faults,.and pardon beg", with tears 
Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air 
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign 
Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek ?—lhid. 



250 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 

REVENGE. 
Forbearance of revenge, when revenge is 
within reach, is scarcely ever to be found 
among princes. — Memoirs of the King of Prus- 
sia, 

RESPECT. 
Respect is often paid in proportion as it is 
claimed. — Idler, v. 1. 



LITERARY REPUTATION. 
Of the decline of literary reputation, many 
causes may be assigned. It is commonly lost 
because it never was deserved, and was con- 
ferred at first, not by the suffrage of criticism, 
but by the fondness of friendship, or servility of 
flattery. Many have lost the final reward of 
their labours, because they were too hasty to 
enjoy it. They have laid hold on recent occur- 
rences and eminent names, and delighted their 
readers with allusions and remarks, in which 
all were interested, and to which therefore all 
were attentive ; but the effect ceased with its 
cause ; the time quietly came when new events 
drove the former from memory, when the vi- 
cissitudes of the world brought new hopes and 
fears, transferred the love and hatred of thQ 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 251 

public to other agents, and the writer whose 
works were no longer assisted by gratitude or 
resentment, was left to the cold regard of idle 
curiosity. But he that writes upon general 
principles, or delivers universal truths, may hope 
to be often read, because his work will be 
equally useful at all times, and in every coun- 
try ; but he cannot expect it to be received 
with eagerness, or to spread with rapidity, be- 
cause desire can have no particular stimulation. 
That which is to be loved long, is to be loved 
with reason, rather than with passion. — Idler. 

REASON AND FANCY. 
Reason is like the sun, of which the light is 
constant, uniform and lasting. Fancy, a me- 
teor of bright but transitory lustre, irregular in 
its motion, and delusive in its direction. — Prince 
of Abyssinia. 

SATIRE. 

All truth is valuable, smd satirical criticism 
may be considered as useful, when it rectifies 
error, and improves judgment. He that refines 
the public taste, is a public benefactor. — Life 
of Pope. 



252 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

Personal resentment, though no laudable 
motive to satire, can add great force to general 
principles. Self-love is a busy prompter.— Li/e 
ofDryden. 



SATIRIST. 
In defence of him who has satirized the man 
he has once praised, it may be alleged that 
the object of his satire has changed his princi- 
ples, and that he who was once deservedly 
commended, may be afterwards satirized with 
equal justice, or that the poet was dazzled with 
the appearance of virtue, and found the man 
whom he had celebrated, when he had an op- 
portunity of examining him more nearly, un- 
worthy of the panegyric which he had too has- 
tily bestowed ; and that, as false satire ought to 
be recanted, for the sake of him whose repu- 
tation may be injured, false praise ought like- 
wise to be obviated, lest the distinction between 
vice and virtue should be lost, lest a bad man 
should be trusted upon the credit of his en- 
comiast, or lest others should endeavour to ob- 
tain the like praises by the same means. — But 
though these excuses may be often plausible, 
and sometimes just, they are seldom satisfacto- 
ry to mankind ; and the writer who is not con- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 253 

Slant to his subject, quickly sinks into contempt; 
his satire los- ■'- its force, and his panegyric its 
value ; and he is only considered at one time 
as a flatterer, and as a calumniator at another. 
To avoid these imputations, it is only necessary 
to follow the rules of virtue, and to preserve an 
unvaried regard to truth. For though it is un- 
doubtedly possible that a man, however cau- 
tious, may be sometimes deceived by an artful 
appearance of virtue, or a false appearance of 
guilt, such errors will not be frequent ; and it 
will be allowed, that the name of f^n author 
would never have been made contemptible, 
had no man ever said what he did :iot think, or 
misled others but when he was hi' -iself deceived. 
— Life of Savage. 

SECRETS. 

Secrets are so seldom kept, that it may be 
with some reason doubted, whether a secret has 
not some subtle volatility by which it escapes, 
imperceptibly, at the smallest vent, or some 
power of fermentation, by which it expands 
itself, so as to burst the heart that will not give 
it w^y, —Rambler y v. 1. 
22 



254 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

To tell our own secrets is' generally folly, but 
that folly is without guilt. To communicate 
those with which we are entrusted, is always 
treachery, and treachery for the most part 
combined with folly. — Ibid. 

SKEPTICISM. 
There are some men of narrow views and 
groveling conceptions, who, without the instiga- 
tion of personal malice, treat every new attempt 
as wild and chimerical, and look upon every 
endeavour to depart from the beaten track, as 
the rash elfort of a warm imagination, or the 
glittering speculation of an exalted mind, that 
may please and dazzle for a time, but can pro- 
duce no real, or lasting advantage. — Life of 
Blake. 

To play with important truths, to disturb the 
repose of established tenets, to subtilize object- 
ions, and elude proof, is too often the sport of 
youthful vanity, of which maturer experience 
commonly repents. There is a time when 
every man is weary of raising difficulties only to 
task himself with the solution, and desires to 
enjoy truth, without the labour, or hazard of 
contest. — Life of Sir T. Browne. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 255 

SEDUCTION. 
There is not perhaps, in all the stores of 
ideal anguish, a thought more painful than the 
conciousness of having propagated corruption 
by vitiating principles ; of having not only drawn 
others from the paths of virtue, but blocked up 
the way by which they should return; of 
having blinded them to every beauty, but the 
paint of pleasure ; and deafened thena to every 
call, but the alluring voice of the syrens of 
destruction. — Rambler^ v. 1. 



SOLITUDE. 
In solitude, if we escape the example of bad 
men, we likewise want the counsel and conver- 
sation of the good. — Prince of Abyssinia. 

The life of a solitary man will be certainly 
miserable, but not certainly devout. — Ibid. 

To those who pass their time in solitude and 
retirement, it has been justly objected, that if 
they are happy, they are happy only by being 
useless ; that mankind is one vast republic, 
where every individual receives many benefits 
from the labour of others, which, by labouring 
in his turn for others, he is obliged to repay ; 



256 MAXIMS OP JOHNSON. 

and that where the united efforts of all are not 
able to exempt all from misery, none have a 
right to withdraw from their task of vigilance, 
or be indulged in idle wisdom and solitary 
pleasures. — Idler ^ v. 1. 

SORROW. 
The sharpest and most melting sorrow is that 
which arises from the loss of those whom we 
have loved with tenderaess. But friendship 
between mortals can be contracted on no other 
terms, than that one must sometimes mourn for 
the other's death; and this grief will always 
yield to the survivor one consolation proportion- 
ate to his affliction ; for the pain, whatever it 
fee, that he himself feels, his friend has escaped. 
— Rambler J v. 1. 

It is urged by some as a remedy for sorrow, 
to keep our minds always suspended in such 
indifference, that we may change the objects 
about us without emotion. An exact compli- 
ance with this rule might perhaps contribute to 
tranquillity, but surely it would never produce 
happiness. He that regards none so much 
as to be afraid of losing them, must live for 
aver without the gentle pleasures of sympathy 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 257 

and confidence. He must feel no melting con- 
fidence, no warmth of benevolence, nor any of 
those honest joys which nature annexes to the 
power of pleasing. And as no man can justly 
claim more tenderness than he pays, he must 
forfeit^^his share in that officious and watchful 
kindness which love only can dictate, and those 
lenient endearments by which love only can 
soften \\fe,"-Ibid. 

The safe and general antidote against sorrow, 
is employment. It is commonly observed, that 
among soldiers and seamen, though there is 
much kindness, there is little grief. They see 
their friend fall without any of that lamentation 
which is indulged in security and idleness, be- 
cause they have no leisure to spare from the care 
of themselves ; and whoever shall keep his 
thoughts equally busy, will find himself equally 
unafl^ected with irretrievable losses. — Ibid, 

Sorrow is a kind of rust to the soul, which 
every new idea contributes, in its passage, to 
scour away. It is the putrefaction of stagnant 
life, and is remedied by exercise and motion. — 
Ibid. 

22* 



258 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON* 

STYLE. 

The polite are always catching at modish in- 
novations, and the learned depart from estab- 
lished forms of speech, in hopes of finding or 
making better. But propriety resides in that 
kind of conversation v\^hich is above grossness 
and below refinement. — Preface to Shakspeare. 

Words being arbitrary, must owe their pow- 
er to association, and have the influence, and 
that only, which custom has given them. — Life 
of Cowley, 

Words too familiar, or too remote, defeat the 
purpose of a poet. From these sounds, which 
we hear on small, or coarse occasions, we do 
not easily receive stro'"'^' impressions, or delight- 
ful images ; and woras to which we are nearly 
strangers, whenever they occur, draw that at- 
tention on themselves^ which they should con- 
vey to things. — Life of Dry den. 

An epithet, or metaphor, drawn from nature, 
ennobles art ; an epithet, or metaphor, drawn 
from art, degrades nature. — Life oj Gray. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 259 

SINGULARITY. 

Singularity, as it implies a contempt of gen- 
eral practice, is a kind of defiance, which justly 
provokes the hostility of ridicule. He therefore 
who indulges peculiar habits, is worse tlian oth- 
ers, if he be not better.- — Life of Swift. 

SUBORDINATION. 
He that encroaches on another's dignity, puts 
himself in his power ; he is eiiher repelled with 
helpless indignity, or endured by clemency and 
condescension. A great mind disdains to hold 
any thing by courtesy, and therefore never 
usurps what a lawful claimant may take away. 
— Life of Swift, 

No man can pay a more servile tribute to 
the great, than by sufFe*""^'^ his liberty, in their 
presei:ice, to aggrandize him in his own esteem. 
Between different ranks of the comununity 
there is necessarily some distance. He who is 
called by his superior to pass the interval, may 
very properly accept the invitation ; but petu- 
lance, and obtrusion," are rarely produced by 
magnanimity, nor have often any nobler cause 
than the pride of importance, and the malice of 
inferiority. He who knows himself necessary^ 



258 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON^ 

STYLE. 

The polite are always catching at modish in- 
novations, and the learned depart from estab- 
lished forms of speech, in hopes of finding or 
making better. But propriety resides in that 
kind of conversation which is above grossness 
and below refinement. — Preface to ShaJcspeare. 

Words being arbitrary, must owe their pow- 
er to association, and have the influence, and 
that only, which custom has given them.- — Life 
of Cowley, 

Words too familiar, or too remote, defeat the 
purpose of a poet. From these sounds, which 
we hear on small, or coarse occasions, we do 
not easily receive stro^^o* impressions, or delight- 
ful images ; and w^oras to which we are nearly 
strangers, whenever they occur, draw that at- 
tention on themselves^ which they should con- 
vey to things, — Life of Dry den. 

An epithet, or metaphor, drawn from nature, 
ennobles art ; an epithet, or metaphor, drawn 
from art, degrades nature.- — Life oj Gray, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 259 

SINGULARITY. 

Singularity, as it implies a contempt of gen- 
eral practice, is a kind of defiance, which justly 
provokes the hostility of ridicule. He therefore 
who indulges peculiar habits, is worse than oth- 
ers, if he be not better. — Life of SwifL 

SUBORDINATION. 
He that encroaches on another's dignity, puts 
himself in his power ; he is eilher repelled with 
helpless indignity, or endured by clemency and 
condescension. A great mind disdains to hold 
any thing by courtesy, and therefore never 
usurps what a lawful claimant rnay take away. 
— Life of Swift. 

No man can pay a more servile tribute to 
the great, than by suffp"* ^'^; his liberty, in their 
preserve, to aggrandize him in his own esteem. 
Between different ranks of the comipunity 
there is necessarily some distance. He who is 
called by his superior to pass the interval, may 
very properly accept the invitation ; but petu- 
lance, and obtrusion,' are rarely produced by 
magnanimity, nor have often any nobler cause 
than the pride of importance, and the malice of 
inferiority. He who knows himself necessary^ 



260 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

may set, whilst that necessity lasts, a high val- 
ue upon himself; as in a lower condition, a ser- 
vant eminently skilful may be saucy, but he is 
saucy only because he is servile. — Ibid. 

A due regard to subordination is the power 
that keeps peace and order in the world. — 
JStotes upon Shakspeare, v. 3. 

SOLICITATION. 
Every man of known influence has so many 
petitions w^hich he cannot grant, that he must 
necessarily offend more than he gratifies ; as 
the preference given to one, affords all the rest a 
reason for complainto "When I give away a 
place, (said Louis the XlVth) I make an hun- 
dred discontented, and one ungrateful." — Life 
of Swift, 

SUSPICION. 
Suspicion is no less an enemy to virtue than 
to happiness. He that is already corrupt, is 
naturally suspicious ; and he that becomes sus- 
picious, will quickly be corrupt. — Rambler, v. 2. 

He that suffers by imposture, has too often 
his virtue more impaired than his fortune. But 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON, 261 

as it is necessary not to invite robbery by su- 
pineness, so it is our duty not to suppress ten- 
derness by suspicion. It is better to suffer 
wrong, than to do it ; and happier to be some- 
times cheated, than not to trust. — Ibid. 

He who is spontaneously suspicious, may be 
justly charged with radical corruption ; for if 
he has not known the prevalence of dishonesty 
by information, nor had time to observe it with 
his own eyes, whence can he take his measures 
of judgment but from himself ? — Ibid^ v. 4. 

SUPERIORITY. 
The superiority of some is merely local. 
They are great, because their associates are 
little. — Life of Swift. 



SCRIPTURE. 
Idle and indecent applications of sentences 
taken from scripture, is a mode of merriment 
which a good man dreads for its profaneness, 
and a witty man disdains for its easiness and 
vulgarity. — Life of Pope. 

SIMILE. 
A simile, to be perfect, must both illustrate and 
ennoble the subject ; must shew it to the un- 



262 MAXIMS OF JOHNSOJ^. 

derstandiog in a clearer view, and display it to 
the fancy with greater dignity ; but either of 
these qualities may be sufficient to recommend 
it. In didactic poetry, of which the great pur- 
pose is instruction, a simile may be praised 
which illustrates, though it does not ennoble. 
In heroics, that may be admitted which enno- 
blesj though it does not illustrate. That it 
may be complete, it is required to exhibit, inde- 
pendently of its references, a pleasing image ; 
for a simile is said to be a short episode. — Ibid. 

SHAME.^ 
Shame, above any other passion, propagates 
itself.— Rambler. 

It is, perhaps, kindly provided by nature, 
that as the feathers and strength of a bird grow 
together, and her wings are not completed till 
she is able to fly ; so some proportion should 
be observed in the human mind, betv^jeen judg- 
ment and courage. The precipitation of ex- 
perience is therefore restrained by shame, and 
we remain shackled by timidity, till we have 
learned to speak and act with propriety. — Ibid. 

Shame operates most strongly in our earliest 
3ars. — JYotes upon Shakspeare^ v. 5, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 263 

STUDY. 

As in life, so in study, it is dangerous to do 
more things than one at atime ; and the mind 
is not to be harrassed with unnecessary obstruc- 
tions, in a Vt^ay of which the natural and una- 
voidable asperity is such, as too frequently pro- 
duces despair. — Preface to the Pi'eceptor. 

SOBRIETY. 
Sobriety, or temperance, is nothing but the 
forbearance of pleasure ; and if pleasure was 
not followed by pain, who would forbear it ? — 
Idler ^ V. 2. 

SCARCITY. 
Value is more frequently raised by scarcity 
than by use. That which luy neglected when 
it was common, rises in estimation as its quanti- 
ty becomes less. We seldom learn the true 
want of what we have, til! it is discovered that 
we can have no more.^ — Ibid, 

SENTENCES. 
In all pointed sentences, some degree of ac- 
curacy must be sacrificed to conciseness. — Bra- 
very of English Common Soldiers, 



266 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

is given up in the reciprocations of civility to the 
disposal of others'; all that is torn from us by 
the violence of disease, or stolen imperceptibly 
away by lassitude and languor ; we shall find 
that part of our duration very small, of which 
we can truly call ourselves masters, or which 
we can spend wholly at our own choice. — Ibid. 

Time, like money, may be lost by unseason- 
able avarice.~ijfe of Bur man. 

Time is the inflexible enemy of all false hy- 
^oihe^es,— Treatise on the Longitude. 

An Italian philosopher expressed in his mot- 
to, ^' that time was his estate." An estate, in- 
deed, which will produce nothing without culti- 
vation, but will always abundantly repay the la- 
bours of industry, and satisfy the most extensive 
desires, if no part of it be suffered to lie waste 
by negligence, to be over-run with noxious 
plants, or laid out for show rather than for use. 
—-Rambler^ v. 3. 

TIME PAST. 
Whether it be that life has more vexations 
than comforts, or what is in event just the same, 
that evil makes deeper impressions than good, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 267 

it IS certaia that few can review the time past, 
without heaviness of heart. He remembers ma- 
ny calamities incurred by folly ; many oppor- 
tunities lost by negligence. The shades of the 
dead rise up before him, and he laments the 
companions of his youth, the partners of his 
amusements, the assistants of his labours, whom 
the hand of death has snatched away. — Idler. 

TRIFLES. 
It may be frequently remarked of the studi- 
ous and speculative, that they are proud of tri- 
fles, and that thfeir amusements seem frivolous 
and childish ; whether it be that men, conscious 
of great reputation, think themselves above the 
reach of censure, and safe in the admission of 
negligent indulgencies, or that mankind expect, 
from elevated genius, an uniformity of greatness, 
and watch its degradation with malicious won- 
der, like him, who having followed with his eye 
an eagle into the t^louds, should lament that she 
ever descended to a perch. — Life of Pope. 

Trifles always require exuberance of orna- 
ment. The building which has no strength, can 
be valued only for the grace of its decorations. 
The pebble must be polished with care, which 



368 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

hopes to be valued as a diamond, and word^ 
ought surely to be laboured, when they are 
intended to stand for things. — Rambler^ v/3. 

To proportion the eagerness of contest to its 
importance, seems too hard a task for human 
wisdom. The pride of wit has kept ages busy 
in the discussion of useless questions; and the 
pride of power has destroyed armies to gain or 
to keep unprofitable possessions. — -Falkland 
Islands. 

TRAVELLING. 
All travel has its advantages : if the passenger 
visits better countries, he m^y learn to improve 
his own ; and if fortune carries him to worse, he 
may learn to enjoy k.— Western Islands, 

He that would travel for the entertainment of 
others, should remember, that the great object 
of remark is human life. Every nation has 
something in^,its manufactures, its works of ge- 
nius, its medicines, its agricultnre, its customs, 
and its policy. He only is a useful traveller, 
who brings home something by which his country 
may be benefited, who procures some supply of 
Want, ipr some mitigation of evil, which may 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 269 

enable his readers to compare their condition 
M'ith that of others ; to improve it wherever it 
is worse, and wherever it is better, to enjoy it. 
""Idler, V. 2. 

TRADE. 
Nothing dejects a trader like the interruption 
of his profits.— Ta.ra^io?! no Tyranny. 



TRUTH. 

Truth is scarcely to be heard, but by those 
from whom it can serve no interest to conceal 

it. — Rambler, v. 3. 

Truth has no gradations ; nothing which ad- 
mits of increase can be so much what it is — as 
truth is truth. There may be a strange things 
and a thing more strange. But if a proposition 
be ti^ue^ there can be none more true^ — JVotes 
upon ShaJcsjjeare, v. 2. 

Malice often bears down truth. — Ibidj v. 3. 

Truth, like leauty, varies its fashions, and is 
best recommended by different dresses, to 
different minds. — Id'er, v. 2, 

^^23 



270 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

There is no crime more infamous than the 
violation of truth; it is apparent, that men can 
be sociable beings no longer than they can 
believe each other. When speech is employed 
only as the vehicle of falsehood, every man must 
disunite himself from others, inhabit his own 
cave, add seek prey only for himself. — Ibid. 



TEMPTATION. 
It is a corhmon plea of wickedness to call 
temptation destiny.— -.A^o^e^ upon Shakspeare. 



VANITY. 
Those whom their virtue restrains from 
deceiving others, are often disposed, by^ their 
vanity, to deceive themseli^es. — Life of Black- 
more. 

The vanity of men, in advanced life, is 
generally strongly excited by the amorous atten- 
tion of young women. — Life of Swift. 

When any one complains of the want of what 
he is known to possess in an uncommon degree, 
he certainly waits with impatience to be contra- 
dicted. — Rambler, v. 4. 



MAXIMS OF JOllNSON. 271 

Vanity is often no less mischievous than 
negligence, or dishonesty. — Idler^ v. 2. 

VIRTUE. 

Be virtuous ends pursu'd by virtuous means. 
Nor think th' intention sanctifies the deed." 
That maxim, publisli'd in an impious age, 
Would loose the wild enthusiast to destroy, 
And fix the fierce usurper's bloody title. 
Then bigotry might send her slaves to war, 
And bid success become the test of truth. 
Unpitying massacre might waste the world. 
And persecution boast the call of heaven. — Irene, 

He who desires no virtue in his companion, 
has no virtue in himself. Hence, when the 
wealthy and the dissolute connect themselves 
with indigent con^anions, for their powers of 
entertainment, their friendship amounts to little 
more than paying the reckoning for them. 
They only desire to drink and laugh ; their 
^fondness is without benevolence, and their fa- 
miliarity' without friendship. — Life of Otway, 

Many men mistake the love for the practise 
of virtue, and are not so much good men, as 
the friends of goodness. — Lfe of Savage, 



272 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

Virtue is undoubtedly most laudable in that 
state which makes it most difficult. — Ibid. 

Virtue is the surest foundation both of repu- 
tation and fortune, and the first step to great- 
ness is to be honest. — Life of Drake. 

He that would govern his actions by the law^ 
of virtue, must regulate his thoughts by the 
laws of reason ; he must keep guilt from the 
recesses of his heart, and remember that the 
pleasures of fimcy, and the emotions of desire, 
are more dangerous as they are more hidden, 
since they escape the awe of observation, and 
operate equally in every situation, without the 
concurrence of external opportunities. — Ram- 
bier, V. 1. 



' 3 



To dread no eye, and to suspect no tongue, 
is the great prerogative of innocence ; an ex- 
emption granted only to invariable virtue. But 
guilt has always its horrors and solicitudes; and 
to make it yet more shameful and detestable, it 
is doomed often to stand in awe of those, to 
whom nothing could give influence, or weight, 
but their power of betraying.— I6zc?, v. 2. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 273 

Virtue may owe her panegyricks to morality, 
but must derive her authority from religion. — 
Preface to the Preceptor, 

Virtue is too often merely local. In some 
situations, the air diseases the body ; and in 
others, poisons the mind. — Idler ^ v. 2. 

ROMANTIC VIRTUE. 
Narrations of romantic and impracticable vir- 
tue, will be read with wonder ; but that which 
is unattainable is recommended in vain. That 
good may be endeavoured, it must be shewn to 
be possible. — hife of Pope. 

INTENTIONAL VIRTUE. 
Nothing is more unjust, however common, 
than to charge with hypocrisy, him that ex- 
presses zeal for those virtues which he neglects 
to practise ; since he may be sincerely con- 
vinced of the advantages of conquering his pas- 
sions, without having yet obtained the victory ; 
as a man may be confident of the advantages of 
a voyage, or a journey, without having courage 
or industry to undertake it, and may honestly 
recommend to others, those attempts which he 
neglects himself. — Rambler, v. 1. 



274 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

EXCESS OF VIRTUE. 
It may be laid down as an axiom, that it is 
more easy to take away superfluities, than to 
supply defects; and therefore he that is culpa- 
ble, because he has passed the middle' point of 
virtue^ is always accounted a fairer object of 
hope, than he who fails by falling short ; as 
rashness is more pardonable than cowardice, 
profusion than avarice.— iSit?. 

VICE. 

Vices, like diseases, are often hereditary. 
The property of the one is to infect the man- 
ners, as the other poisons the springs of life. 
— Idler ^ V. 1 . 

BLANK VERSE. 
The exemption which blank verse affords 
from the necessity of closing the sense with the 
couplet, betrays luxuriant and active minds into 
such indulgence, that they pile image upon im- 
age, ornament upon ornament, and are not easily 
persuaded to close the sense at all. Blank 
verse will, it is to be feared, be too often found 
in description, exuberant; in argument, loqua- 
cious ; and in narration, tiresome.— ij/e o/* 
Jikemide. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 275 

VIRTUE. 
There are some who, though easy to commit 
small crimes, are quickened and alarmed at at- 
rocious villainies. Of these virtue may be said 
to sit loosely, but not cast off,—JYotes upon 
Shakspeare^ v. 10. 



UNIVERSALITY. 

What is fit for every thing, can fit nothing 
well. — Life of Cowley. 

UNDERSTANDING. 

As the mind must govern the hands, so in 
every societVj the man of intelligence must di- 
rect the man of labour. — Western Islands. 

GREAT UNDERTAKINGS. 
A large work is difficult, because it is large, 
even though all its parts might singly be per- 
formed with facility. Where there are many 
things to be done, each must be allowed its 
share of lime and labour, in the proportion on- 
ly which it bears to the whole ; nor can it be 
expected, that the stones which form the dome 
of a temple, should be squared and polished 
like the diamond of a ring. — Preface to Die- 
iionary. 



276 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

WAR 

As war is the extremity of evil, it is surely 
the duty of those whose station entrusts them 
with the care of nations, to avert it from their 
charge. There are diseases of animal nature 
which nothing but amputation can remove; so 
there may, by the depravation of human pas- 
sions, be sometimes a gangrene in collected life, 
for which fire and the sword are the necessary 
remedies ; but in what can skill or caution be 
better shown, than in preventing such dreadful 
operations, while there is room for gentler 
methods ? — Falkand Islands. 

The wars of civilized nations make very slow 
changes in the system of empire. The public 
perceives scarcely any alteration, but an increase 
of debt ; and the few individuals who are ben- 
efited, are not supposed to have the clearest 
right to their advantages. If he that shared 
the danger, enjoyed the profit ; if he that bled 
in the batde, grew rich by victory ; he might 
show his gains without envy. But at the con- 
clusion of a long war, how are we recompensed 
for the death of multitudes, and the expense of 
millions ? but by contemplating the sudden glo- 
ries of pay-masters and agents, contractors and 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 277 

commissioners, whose equipages^shine like me- 
teors, and whose palaces rise like exhalations. — 
Ibid. 

Princes have yet this remnant of humanity, 
that they think themselves obliged not to make 
war without reason, though their reasons are 
not always very satisfactory.- -JkfemozV^ of the 
King of Prussia, 

He must certainly meet with obstinate op- 
pcsitiouj who makes it equally dangerous to 
yield as to resist, and who leaves his enemies 
no hopes, but from victory.— JLj/e of Drake. 

Among the calamities of war, may be justly 
numbered the diminution of the love of truth, 
by the falsehoods which interest dictates, and 
credulity encourages. — Idler ^ v. 1. 

The lawfulness and justice of -the holy wars 
have been much disputed ; but perhaps there 
is a principle on which the question may be ea- 
sily determined. If it be part of the religion of 
the Mahometans to extirpate by the sword all 
other religions, it is, by the laws of self-defence, 
lawful for men of every other religion, and for 
24 



278 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

Christians among others, to make war upon 
Mahometans, simply as Mahometans, as men 
obliged by their own principles to make war up- 
on Christians, and only lying in wait till oppor- 
tunity shall promise them success.— JVb^e^ upon 
Shakspearey v. 5. 

WIT. 
Wit is that which is at once natural and new, 
and which, though not obvious, is, upon its first 
production, acknowledged to be just. — -Life of 
Cowley. 

Wit will never make a man rich, but there 
are places where riches will always make a 
wit. — Idler ^ v. 1. 

Wit, like every other power, has its bounda- 
ries. Its success depends on the aptitude of 
others to receive impressions ; and that as some 
bodies, indissoluble by heat, can set the fur- 
nace and crucible at defiance, there are minds 
upon which the rays of fancy may be pointed 
without effect, and which no fire of sentiment 
can agitate, or ex^dlt.— Rambler, v. 4. p. 78. 

It is a calamity incident to grai/ haired wit, 
that his merriment is unfashionable. His aliu- 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 279 

sions are forgotten facts, his illustrations., are 
drawn from notions obscured by time, his wit 
therefore may be called single^ such as none 
has any part in but himself.— JVbto upon 
Shalcspeare. v. 5. 

WISDOM. 
The first years of man must make provision 
for the last. He that never thinks, can never 
be wise. — Prince of Abyssinia. 

To be grave of mein, and slow of utterance; 
to look with solicitude, and speak with hesita- 
tion, is attainable at will; but the show of wis- 
dom is ridiculous, when there is nothing to 
cause doubt, as that of valour where there is 
nothing to be feared. — Idler, v. 1. 

WORLD. 
The world is generally willing to support 
those who solicit favour, against those who com- 
mand reverence. He is easily praised, whom 
no man can envy. — Preface to Shakspeare. 

Of things that terminate in human lifcj the 
world is the proper judge. To despise its sen- 
tence, if it were possible, is not just; and if it 
were just, is not possible. — Life of Pope. 



280 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

To know the world is necessary, since we 
were born for the help of one another; and to 
know it early is convenient, if it be only that we 
may learn^ early to despise it. — Idler^ v. 2. 



WOxM.EN. 

Women are always most observed, when they 
seem themselves least to observe, or to lay out 
for observation. — Rambler^ v. 2. 

It is observed, that the unvaried complaisance 
which women have a right of exacting, keeps 
them generally unskilled in human nature. — 
Ibid, V. 3. 

Our best poet seems to have given this char- 
acter to women. ''That they think ill of noth- 
ing that raises the credit of their beauty, and 
are ready, however virtuous, to pardon any act 
which they think incited by their own charms. 
, — JYotes upon Shakspeare, v. 2. 

It is said of a woman who accepts a worse 
match than those which she had refused, that 
she has passed through the wood^ and at last 
has taken a crooked stick.- — Ibid, 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 281 

Nothing is more common than for the young- 
er part of the sex, upon certain occasions to 
say in a pet what they do not think, or to think 
for a time on what they do not finally resolve. 
— Ibid^ V. 4. 

WEALTH. 

Some light might be given to those who shall 
endeavouV to calculate the increase of English 
wealth, by observing that Latimer in the time of 
Edward VI, mentions it as a proof of his father's 
prosperity, that though but d yeoman he 
gave Jhis Ad^u^^iexs jive pounds each for her por- 
tion. At the latter end of Elizabeth, seven 
hundred pounds were such a temptation to 
courtship, as made all other motives suspected. 
— Congreve makes twelve thousand pounds 
more than a counterbalance to the affectation of 
Belinda. — No poet would noiv fly his favorite 
character at less \\\?xn ffty thousand, — JVotes 
upon Shakspeare, v. 1. 

WICKEDNESS. 

There is always danger lest wickedness con- 
joined with abilities should steal upon esteem, 
though it misses of approbation. — JYotes upon 
Shakspeare^ v. 10. 
^4^ 



282 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

FEMALE WEAKNESS. 
The weakness they lament, themselves create ; 
Instructed from their infant years to court, 
With counterfeited fears, the- aid of man, 
They seem to shudder at the^rustling breeze, 
Start at the light, and tremble in the dark ; 
Till affectation, ripening to belief, 
And folly frighted at her oiyn chimeras, 
Habitual cowardice usurps the soul. — Irene. 

WINE. 
In the bottle, discontent seeks for comfort, 
cowardice for courage, and bashfulness for con- 
fidence ; but who ever asked succour from 
Bacchus, that was able^to preserve himself from 
being enslaved by his auxiliary? — Life of Ad- 
dison, 

WRONGS. 

Men are wrong for want of sense, butfthey 
are wrong by halves for want of spirit.— Ta^ra- 
tion no Tyranny^ p. 42. 

Men easily forgive wrongs which are not 
committed against themselves. —cA^oto upon 
Shakspeare, v. 2. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSOiSr. 283 

LETTER- WRITING. 
The importance of writing letters with pro- 
priety, justly claims to be considered with care, 
since next to the power of pleasing with his 
presence, every man should wish to be able to 
give delight at a distance* Preface to the Pre- 
ceptor. 

SPLENDID WICKEDNESS. 
There have been men splendidly ^wicked, 
whose endowments threw a brightness on their 
crimes, and whom scarce any villany made 
perfectly detestable, because they never could 
be wholly .divested of their excellencies : but 
such have been, in all ages, the great corrup- 
tors of the world ; and their resemblance ought 
no more to be preserved, than the art of mur- 
dering without pain. — Rambler, v. 1. 

YOUTH. 
Youth is of no long duration ; and in matu- 
rer age, when the enchantments of fancy shall 
cease, and pliantoms of delight dance no more 
about us, we shall have no comforts but the 
esteem of wise men, and the^means of doing 
good. Let us therefore^ stop, whilst to stop is 



284 MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 

in our power. Let us live as men, who are 
some time to grow old, and to whom it will be 
the most dreadful of all evils, to count their 
past years by follies, and to be reminded of 
their former luxuriance of health, only by the 
maladies which riot has produced.— Prince of 
Abyssinia. 

That the highest degree of reverence should 
be paid to youth, and that nothing indecent 
should be suffered to approach their eyes, or 
ears, are precepts extorted by sense and virtue 
from an ancient writer, by no means eminent 
for chastity of thought. The same kind, 
though not the same degree of caution, is re- 
quired in every thing which is laid before them, 
to secure them from unjust prejudices, perverse 
opinions, and incongruous combinations of im- 
ages.— JRamSZer, v. 1. 

Youth is the time of enterprise and hope : 
having yet no occasion for comparing our force 
with any opposing power, we naturally form 
presumptions in our own favour, and imagine 
that obstruction and impediment will give way 
before us. — Ibid, v. 3. 



MAXIMS OF JOHNSON. 285 

YOUTH AND AGE. 
When we are young we busy ourselves in 
forming schemes for succeeding time, and miss 
the gratifications that are before us ; when we 
are old we amuse the langour of age with the 
recollection of youthful pleasures or perform- 
ances ; so that our life, of w^hich no part is 
filled with the business of the present time, re- 
sembles our dreams after dinner, when the 
events of the morning are mingled with the de- 
signs of the evening. — JYoies upon Shakspeare. 



THE END. 



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